


everything you know

by ricken



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Gen, LETS GET IT ON, M/M, Multi, Slow Burn, Swearing, T E A M B O N D I N G, Team Bonding, backstory warping WOO, i love writing for things that have like such little substance as of yet so i can just .. warp it, this is new, wheee
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2018-06-08 18:00:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 31
Words: 54,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6867697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ricken/pseuds/ricken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He could hear Tracer laughing along with Winston about something that Lucio had said. Lucio himself was stuttering out some sort of explanation to his flub. McCree couldn’t tell you what he had said exactly, his hearing wasn’t too good after all the gunfights. Mei was flitting around from place to place, muttering to herself in Chinese. Jesse couldn’t figure out that girl if he tried. (Which he has.) Genji was completely silent, probably meditating on some of life’s greatest mysteries. This team wasn’t half bad-he could’ve done worse.<br/>A lot worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hi im here to be awful and terrible and i have literally sold my soul to this game and i dont have enough money to buy it K I L L M E

Black clouds were rolling slowly across the dark cerulean sky. The occasional white star was twinkling merrily where they could peek out from the clouds as the warm wind pushed them along. The very same western wind was bouncing tumbleweeds across the lonesome plain. Far in the distance you could hear rattlers and owls on the prowl. 

Reclining the roof of the makeshift Overwatch base, Jesse McCee sighed contentedly and took a deep inhale of his cigar. He stared as he blew  the smoke skywards and as it disappeared. He propped his head up behind his nonmetal arm. It was nice nights like this that made him miss the good ‘ol days.

Good God, that made him sound like an old man.

He chuckled to the night, and listened to the commotion within the converted Route 66 rest stop which his team of misfits has set up shop.

He could hear Tracer laughing along with Winston about something that Lucio had said. Lucio himself was stuttering out some sort of explanation to his flub. McCree couldn’t tell you what he had said exactly, his hearing wasn’t too good after all the gunfights. Mei was flitting around from place to place, muttering to herself in Chinese. Jesse couldn’t figure out that girl if he tried. (Which he has.) Genji was completely silent, probably meditating on some of life’s greatest mysteries. This team wasn’t half bad-he could’ve done worse. 

A lot worse.  

Images of a figure cloaked in black with a white mask flashed through his head and he bit down on his cigar. His hand tensed behind his head, knocking his hat back. That was some cattle he didn’t want to rustle. No sir, not tonight. He’ll just shove that aside until he has to face it on the battlefield again. 

“Is something bothering you?”

McCree sat up quick as a bolt of lightning, nearly choking on the cigar in his mouth. His hand immediately going to the revolver on his belt, before registering the owner of the voice.

“Great God Almighty, Genji.” He sighed,turning around and recognizing the glowing green accents of the ninja’s bionic body. He took his cigar out of his mouth and put it out on the roof. “How long have you been out here?” In response, there was a light chuckle that reminded him of that Omnic monk… Zenyatta?

“Roughly twenty minutes.” Was his answer. McCree sighed and put his cowboy hat on his head. 

“You’re quiet as a mouse, ain’t ya.” He muttered, trying to shrug off the goosebumps running down his back. “I’m not a big fan of people sneaking up behind me.” He added, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Why is that?” Genji asked. Jesse felt the goosebumps on his back come back and he could practically hear that deep, raspy voice growling suddenly from behind him. 

“Personal reasons.” He said curtly. 

“Ah, sorry to pry.”

They fell into an awkward silence. Jesse pulled out another cigar. After lighting it and putting it in between his teeth, he layed back down on the roof. 

“How’s your Monk friend been?”

“Ah. Sensei is… busy.”

“Busy?”

“He’s nearby, spreading his wisdom. He’s due to return in a few days.”

“Hm. Who’s switching out?” 

“Mei. She has a lead on a possible cause of environmental crisis she wants to pursue.”

“That might leave us a little vulnerable if we have to defend anything.” Jesse mused, listening to the now dimming noise in the rest stop.

“That’s a valid concern.”

Inside there was a loud burst of sound, and Tracer screamed. Now Lucio was laughing. The cowboy smiled at the sky. 

“Those kids need to quiet down, or they’ll reveal our position.” He said, fondly. 

“You’re not that much older than them.” Genji remarked. 

“Doesn’t change the fact that I’m the oldest here.”

“Most experienced, as well.”  

“Heh, I suppose.”

Genji and McCree fell into silence again, it was slightly more companionable than the last. McCree let his eyes slip closed.

“McCree! Hey! McCree!” 

McCree sighed in irritation as he sat up. He looked over the side of the roof to see tracer poking her head out of the door. “Get down here and settle a debate for us!” She called, waving her arms. McCree raised an eyebrow.

“This better not be something stupid.” He warned, as he walked to the side of the roof and jumped off onto the ground. 

“It’s not, trust me!” She grabbed his arm and dragged him inside. 

Winston was looking over some documents. Probably some scientific notes. Lucio was arguing with Mei. 

“Oh, hey! McCree!” Lucio said brightly, grinning at the vigilante. Mei smiled at him. McCree sauntered over, his boots rattling. 

“What’s this about a debate that needs settling?” He asked. Tracer grabbed his arm and pulled him closer to the other three. 

“Right! Well, we were talking about how strength in terms of experience, and we got on the topic of “who’s the strongest?” 

“That’s right. Tracer and I think it’s Reinhardt.” Mei explained. 

“And who do we think it is, Winstion?” Lucio asked, walking over to the busy intellectual. Winston didn’t look up from his work. 

“Reaper.” 

McCree stiffened. Why did everyone and everything have to be related back to  _ him?  _

“So? Who’s the strongest?” Trace pressed, poking McCree’s shoulder. He chuckled nervously. 

“Well that’s easy. Me, of course.” He answered breezily, grinning. Everyone fell silent for a moment, before breaking into peals of laughter. Tracer doubled over and clutched at her stomach, Mei was giggling behind her mittens, Lucio’s head was thrown back and he was hitting Winston on the back, who wa also laughing. “What’s so funny? I could beat those two old men any day.” McCree protested, feeling his cheeks warm. 

“Please,” Tracer said wiping a tear from her eye. “They probably taught you everything you know.” 

McCree froze. 

“Uh, Lena, let’s change the subject.” Winston suggested, clearly sensing the cowboy’s discomfort. Tracer finished laughing and shrugged.

“Whatever you say, boss. Hey Lucio, you should call Reinh-”

McCree didn’t hear the rest of the sentence as he strolled out of the rest stop, his hat pulled over his eyes. 

As he took in a breath of fresh air, he started laughing. 

“What am I- a scorned lover?” He laughed at himself. He stomped his cigar out on the ground. “Genji- you still up there?” He called up to the roof.  

“Hai.” Was the distant response. 

“Right. Well.” McCree jumped and grabbed the side of the room, before pulling himself back up. “I hope you don’t mind if i hit the hay.” He said, closing his eyes once again. 

“Of course not. Good night.”

“You too, partner.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tracer deals with some feelings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DID YOU S E E THE NEW SHORT DID Y OU S E E I T  
> I M D EA D T BH D E A D

McCree scanned the horizon, idly rubbing his thumb over his cheekbone, the rest of his hand covering his mouth. Behind him, Genji was leaning against the outside of the rest stop, rolling his shuriken between his mechanical fingers. 

“You can take a break if you’d like, friend.” The ninja commented. McCree chucked. 

“I suppose I could. But there ain’t much for someone like me to do ‘round here.” He responded, turning and walking to where Genji was. He leaned up against the wall next to his companion. “How do you pass the time, Genji?” Next to him, Geni shrugged. 

“I meditate. I keep watch, like you. I socialise, sometimes. Tracer and Winston are good company. Memories from the old Overwatch, though my time there was brief.” McCee grinned wistfully. 

“The old Overwatch, huh.” His thoughts drifted to the picture that Winston keeps  with his personal effects. Members of the old team. Mercy and Jack Morrison, Gab…

No, not this again.

“What do ya think happened to ‘em, Genji?”

“Who?” Genji asked, turning to look at him. McCree gestured vaguely. 

“The old overwatch. The ones that haven’t answered the call yet...Mercy and Torbjӧrn.” McCree explained. 

A hot wind gusted across the scene, and grains of sand brushed Jesse’s cheek, where he had been rubbing it earlier.

“Carrying on with their lives. Though I hope they’ll turn up. I have some things I’d like to say to Mercy, regarding my condition.” Genji commented. McCree placed his thumb behind his belt. 

“I thought you and Zen...Zendart-”

“Zenyatta.”

“Right. I thought he taught you how to be at peace with your condition.” McCree finished. Genji laughed. 

“He did. Sensei helped me find a higher purpose.”

“Of course.”   
“I simply mean to ask her about her advancements in the medical field. I know that I have no help of regaining my former self, but perhaps if another is in the same situation she would be able to help.” Genji elaborated. 

“Ah, well.” He patted Genji on the metal shoulder with his metal hand, which resulted in a loud clang. “I think you’re a good guy, metal or not.” 

“You’re not too bad either, Jesse McCree.”

The cowboy smirked. He looked in the window and saw Mei asleep at one of the booths. Lucio had his headphones on. Winston was nowhere to be seen, but Tracer was sitting on the floor, her goggles next to her on the ground, staring blankly at the wall. That was out of the ordinary. 

“Pardon me.” Jesse said, tipping his hat at the cyborg and walking inside. 

He sauntered over to Tracer and sat down next to her. She didn’t turn to look at him, instead she started talking.

“Do you think a person can change?” she asked, her voice uncharacteristically  quiet. “I mean, really and truly turn a new leaf.” she added. McCree cleared  his throat. 

“We talking about anyone in particular here?” he asked nervously. Tracer pulled her knees up to her chest, her chronal accelerator glowing brightly between her legs. She crssed her arms on top of her knees then rested her chin on them. 

“Amélie.” She responded.

“Who now?”   
“Widowmaker. The Talon assassin.” She clarified. 

_ Really. Did it have to be Talon? _

“What brought this on, sugarplum?” McCree inquired curiously, forcing back his discomfort for the sake of his teammate, going so far as to use the affectionate nickname he had used for her in the past. Tracer giggled, but it sounded like her heart wasn’t in it. 

“Well, her real name is Amélie. Amélie Lacroix. She was married to an Overwatch agent. But she was kidnapped by Talon and reconditioned into a sleeper agent. She was returned to her husband, then she killed him. Killed him in his sleep.”  She sighed. “Then Talon took her back and turned her into a heartless killer.” 

“That’s a lot of information on an elusive assassin.” He remarked. 

“I had Winston do some digging.” She confessed. “The night she killed Tekhartha Mondatta, her eyes… they were cold as ice. Her skin, too.” She ran a finger beneath her eye. Jesse noticed for the first time she was crying. He immediately put an arm around her. She leaned into him. “How can someone… how can someone be that cold? She’s… dead.” Her shoulders started to shake. “And I know what it’s like to feel insubstantial. I know what it’s like to feel helpless and empty… But I can’t… H-How do I help her?” She pleaded. McCree rubbed her shoulder comfortingly. 

“Listen Lena.” 

He thought of the wraith that blew in like the desert wind, wreaked havoc like a tornado, then left like an outlaw in the night. He thought about the person… the person he used to know that was behind the ivory mask.

“There are some people that are so far gone, they’ve practically gone to the moon and back, and they ain’t the same. Most of the time there ain’t nothing you can do about it, not matter how much you want to.”

“You’re being awfully reassuring, Jess.” Tracer mumbled. 

“I wasn’t done yet.” He hushed. “Now, that ain’t to say they can’t try to change themselves. The point is, they won’t change if they don’t want to. Though it might take a firm hand to guide them in the right direction, you can’t make them do anything. You can lead a horse to water-”

“But you can’t make him drink, yeah, yeah, I know.” She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and laughed.

“And I think if anyone can make that spider change her tune, it’s you.” He finished. Tracer sat up and punched McCree in the shoulder.

“You big softie.” She laughed, though it sounded a little watery. “Get back out there and stare broodingly at the horizon some more.” She demanded.

McCree shook his head as he stood up. He rustled Tracer’s already messy hair good-naturedly.  

“Whatever you say, partner.” 

He looked down at the sleeping Mei. “Has she been asleep this time?” Tracer rester her chead on the tabletop, still kneeling on the ground. 

“I think so.” She said, poking Mei in the nose. Mei just wiggled her nose in response, and giggled sleepily. “Oh dear, she is downright knackered. Still cute as a button, though.” 

“You betcha.” He smiled and walked over to the door. Before he went outside, he stuck a cigar in his mouth. 

“Oh! Hey! McCree! What time is it?” Tracer shouted after him. McCree squinted out the window.

“Hmm, it looks to be around 12 o'clock.” He informed. He smirked as Tracer moaned in protest. 

“Oh, come on!” She yelled. He chuckled and stepped outside, where Genji has moved further out. He looked around. Something didn’t feel right. He turned his head back to the door.

“Hey Winston are we expectin’’-”

He was cut short by an arrow whizzing past his ear and sticking in the ground by his left foot. 

He sighed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shakes pom poms
> 
> still garbage


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo delivers some cryptic news  
> Then leaves quickly

McCree squinted at the silhouette standing on the sign above the base. It was a burly shadow,  with a visible bow in it’s hand.

“You got a problem?” He called up to it. The silhouette didn’t move for a long five seconds, before it leapt from the sign onto the rooftop. McCree could clearly see now it was a man, with sharp features and a full tattoo running down his right arm. He had his hair pulled back into a short ponytail. He had well manicured facial hair, and his face was set in a stern frown, his brows knitted together. “Nice landin’, partner, but that doesn’t answer my question.” There was no response. McCree sighed. He moved his hand to his pistol, ready to draw in case things went south,“This ain’t gonna work if you don’t cooperate.” Another beat of silence. Then the figure closed his eyes.

“I’ve come to warn you.” The mystery man said cryptically. McCree grabbed the handle of his gun. 

“That’s all well and good, but what exactly do we have to look out for?” he asked. The figure turned his gaze to the space right next to McCree. McCree followed his gaze and looked next to him, and hopped away, startled. “Jesus christ, Genji!” he exclaimed, holding a hand to his heart.

Genji didn’t respond and just started up at the man. 

“Talon has learned of your location. They’ll be coming soon. Either be on your guard, or move locations.” He warned, not looking away from Genji, who nodded.    
“Thank you, Hanzo.” He said. If featureless cyborgs could smile, Jesse swore he would have been. 

Hanzo hesitated, his features twisting into a look of hope, before turning back to the look of blankness. He nodded once, curtly, before jumping onto the sign and onto the canyon wall, and climbing up the rocky surface until he was out of sight. McCree pointed at where he once was. 

“Did you know him?” He asked. Genji nodded. 

“He’s my brother.” he responded simply. McCree nearly choked. 

“Your what?!” he demanded. Genji walked past him into the rest stop. 

“My brother, Hanzo Shimada.” Genji said again, just as one would talk about the weather. McCree stared after him as he entered the rest stop, then he looked back to the canyon wall. He thought more about the mysterious Hanzo, then he suddenly remembered what he had said. 

“Talon.” He muttered angrily. 

He turned on his heel and walked into the rest stop after Genji. 

 

Winston  was angrily murmuring and fumbling about, Lucio had his head in his hands as he rested his elbows on his knees. Mei was throwing supplies into her bag, biting her bottom lip. Tracer was nervously flickering around from person to person. 

“What's the plan, Winston?” McCree inquired, walking over to the scientist. 

“We have to move to another secure location, we can’t let Talon get to us. 

“We could stay and-” Tracer began to argue. 

“ _ No _ , Tracer. .” Winston snapped, then seeing the startled expression on her face, softened his demeanor. “It’s too dangerous Lena. They know how many high profile ex-Overwatch agents we have here. They  could send Reaper or Widowmaker.” He shoved some papers into a briefcase. “Or both.” he growled. 

“I agree with Winston. We gotta bow out.” Lucio said, sitting back. 

“I think that would be best.” Mei added. Tracer huffed. 

“I think that we’ll be able to fend whoever they send.” Genji said. Winston shook his head. McCree nodded. 

“I’m with Genji and Tracer.” He stated. Tracer hopped from foot to foot. 

“Well that means we have an even split!” She said happily.

“It’s not up for debate, we’re leaving.” Winston said, his voice firm and uncompromising. 

“What message is that going to send if we turn tail and run?” McCree argued. 

“Uh, that we value our lives?” Lucio suggested, his voice bordering on hysterical. McCree looked outside. There wasn’t anyone out there. 

“If we set up our defenses now, we would have the upper hand. Hanzo didn’t warn us for nothing.” Genji said, gesturing behind him. 

“He warned us so we could save ourselves by getting out of here!” Mei countred, rocking back and  forth on her feet. 

“Oh come on Mei, with your defensive prowess, Genji’s skill, Lucio’s support, Winston’s strength, McCree’s experience and my natural talent, we’ll have those Talon goons clearing off in no time flat!” Tracer cheered, throwing her arms around Mei and McCree’s shoulders. McCree laughed. 

“You’re damn right, Tracer.” He agreed. She giggled and pinched his cheek. He slapped her hand away. “None of that.” he admonished. Mei giggled. 

Lucio stood up. “If Trace has that much confidence in us, then I do too.” He glanced at Winston, who looked shocked. “I’ll get my gear!” He said, then sped off deeper into the base. Tracer dropped her arms away and turned to Mei. 

“Whaddya say, Mei-Mei?” Tracer pressed. Mei’s shoulders slumped, but she gave Tracer a smile. 

“Just for you, Tracer.” She conceded. She pulled her Endothermic Blaster out of her bag. “Let’s do it!” 

“Wooho!” Tracer leapt into the air and clapped. She turned her doe-eyes to Winston. He sighed and pushed his glasses up. 

“Fine. We’ll stay.” He said. “But we need to get into position now.” He added. 

“Way ahead of you!” Lucio shouted, skating into the room, leaving a slowing trail of green light behind him. 

“Easy there,” McCree said as Lucio sped around the room. “You’re gonna break something in here if you’re not careful.” 

Lucio laughed, but was cut off as Genji swiftly turned around and reflected a bullet off of his sword, causing it to ricochet into the roof of the rest stop. 

“They’re here.” He said simply. Mei fumbled around for a moment before making a large wall of ice in front of the door where to bullet had entered. 

“Winston?” She asked. Winston nodded. 

“Mei, you stay near the back, leave the assault to McCree, Genji, and Tracer. Lucio, you make sure to stay mobile. I’ll guard you and Mei.” He rattled off quickly. Everyone voiced their agreement. The Ice wall vanished, and outside was a massive man with a tattooed stomach and a gas mask. He threw a huge rusty hook into the rest stop, and yanked it back. McCree imagined if anyone had gotten on the wrong end of it- it wouldn’t have ended well. He immediately threw a flashbang grenade, then fired every bullet out of his gun. He was taken slightly aback when he failed to die, but executed a quick roll and reloaded his gun. He fired three more times and watched as their attacker fell over. But as his body wall falling, it disappeared before it hit the ground.    
“What in tarnation just happened?” McCree asked, whirling to look at Winston, who looked just as startled. 

“I have.. No idea.” He admitted. “Maybe Talon’s technology is more sophisticated than we thought.” He said, voice filled with wonder and trepidation. 

“Technology or not, we can’t let these guys have the run of the place!” Tracer announced, before blinking outside. “Come on slowpokes!”  Genji chuckled then zipped after her.    
“Kids… McCree chuckled before following them at a slower face.

From afar, he could hear Tracer hollering and zipping around. Genji was as quiet as an evening breeze, as usual. He ran down the road until he found a tunnel. The sounds of a gunfight were  echoing through from the other . He slipped through the tunnel, but as he was about to exit, he felt a chill run down his back. 

Slowly, hesitantly, he turned around with his gun drawn. He sighed in relief when he saw no one was there. He straightened his hat. “Why’ve I been so on edge recently?”  He wondered aloud. He turned back around and felt felt his body go rigid. 

_ “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> does the splits and holds pom poms aloft
> 
> look at this g a r b a g e
> 
> i mean to post this yesterday but i had a concert- sorry!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a confrontation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey! so i'm wondering if if anyone would be interested in beta-ing this fic for me. Because I've noticed a few errors and I'm really bad at remembering them.  
> If anyone's interested hit me up @acejoly on tumblr

“Reaper.” McCree growled, taking a step back and desperately hoping his hands weren’t shaking where he held his pistol. Reaper chuckled lowly and darkly, his shoulders rising and falling slowly. McCree snarled at the masked figure and held his gun further from him. The hooded man brought his hands up slowly, each one holding a large gun. McCree knew full well the deadly talent that this man possessed, and felt sweat run down his back. 

“Don’t test me, Jesse.” Reaper warned, taking a step closer. McCree held his ground.

“Don’t you dare call me that,  _ Reaper. _ ” McCree bit back. “You ain’t got the right.”    
“I have more right than anyone here.” Reaper countered. McCree felt his blood boil. His finger twitched on the trigger, but he restrained himself from firing. He heard Tracer shout in the distance. His eyes darted away from the hooded man to the mouth of the cave for a moment. Then a bullet breezed past his ear, and he looked back at Reaper, who was now a step closer. His shoulders were set back, and he radiated anger and annoyance. “Pay attention.” Reaper hissed. McCree frowned. 

“Whaddya want, Reaper?” He asked, his voice tense and on edge.

“What makes you think I want something?” Reaper countered, and McCree could  _ hear  _ the malicious smirk. It set his teeth on edge. 

“You’ve kept me alive this long. There must be somethin’ you want.” McCree explained. 

“How presumptuous.”

“Get on with it!” McCree snapped, fed up with this tedious back-and-forth. It was bad enough seeing him at all, let alone this close and for so long. It was starting to fray his every nerve, and Jesse McCree was a hard man to fray. 

“I don’t take orders from you.” Reaper said, his voice sharp. “But I’ll tell you why I’m here, if it will calm you down.”

“Much obliged.” McCree grunted, patience growing thinner. Or was it his resolve? 

“Talon needs more talented operatives, your name made onto their list of must-haves. We’re here to… recruit you.” Reaper explained, casually rolling his shoulders back. McCree took a firm step forward, so his pistol  was pressing into Reaper’s torso. 

“Over my dead body.” He spat. Reaper brought one of his guns to McCree’s head in turn. 

“That can be arranged. Though unfortunately, they want you alive.” Reaper rolled his neck. “Though I can’t imagine why.” 

“That makes two of us.”

They stood there, locked in a stand-of, both knowing that all it would take was a single pull of the trigger. McCree could hear his pulse in his ears. The feeling of dread and the feeling of fear were slowly overcoming his scenes. But above all else, he felt… excitement. 

“Your heart’s beating fast, McCree.” Reaper taunted. “Scared? You should be.”

“In your dreams, Ghost.” 

“Hmm. Frequently.” 

McCree’s breath caught in his throat, and he pressed his gun harder into Reaper’s chest, who began to laugh maniacally. McCree’s eye twitched. Though not a moment after, he heard the static of a communicator. 

_ “Reaper- we’re falling back. Retreat now.”  _ Came a slightly garbled feminine voice. Reaper’s head jerked to the side. 

“What about the target?” He asked. 

_ “We’ll come back. Roadhog needs to begin regeneration and Junkrat refuses to aid us until he’s healed.”  _

“We have other operatives.”  __ Reaper pressed. 

_ “Not anymore. That annoying girl and the rest of these misfits eliminated them all. Retreat now.”  _

Another burst of static, and the line went dead. Reaper cursed then turned back to McCree. 

“This isn’t over,  _ Jesse.  _ We’ll be back for you.” He promised, before sinking into the ground and disappearing, vanishing into a black cloud like the moon on a stormy night. 

McCree stood still for a moment, then dropped his arm to his side. He stared in front of him, mind running at a thousand miles per hour. He heard Tracer’s shouts of celebration and Lucio’s laughter. That snapped him out of his daze and he hurried out of the tunnel. 

Tracer was laughing and zipping to and fro, cheering. 

“We did it! We did it!” She yelled, spinning her guns around her fingers. Lucio was standing to the side, playing a loud song and dancing along to it. Mei was dancing with him, holding her arms above her head and jumping up and down. Genji was sitting atop an overturned vehicle, legs crossed. Winston was happily smiling and wiping his brow. 

“Oh hey, McCree!” Lucio called out when he noticed the cowboy. He waved and walked out into their little gathering. “Where were you man? You shoulda  _ seen  _ how we took care of those guys!” He boasted, grinning, not stopping his celebratory dance.

“I got a little held up.” McCree confessed. Mei coked her head to the side. 

“Held up? By what?” She asked. 

“Reaper.” 

Lucio stopped dancing, and Mei gasped. Tracer suddenly zipped next to him, making him jump. 

“What’cha say, love?” She asked. McCree sighed rubbed the back of his head. 

“Apparently Talon sent some of their best. Reaper decided to have a little chat with me.” 

“Woah, no way!” Tracer gasped. “And you lived?” 

“Apparently they want me alive.” McCree confessed. “For recruitment into Talon.” 

“So they’ll be coming back then.” Winston assumed, approaching McCree. 

“That’s what he said, yeah.” McCree affirmed. Winston shook his head.

“We need to  _ leave.  _ Now.” Winston said. “No arguments this time.”

“None here, love.” Tracer conceded, nodding. Mei nodded. 

“Genji, we’ll wait here until you return with Zenyatta, then we’ll-”

“No need.” 

McCree turned to see Zenyatta hovering near the mouth of the cave. Genji jumped down off of his perch.

“Sensei!” He said excited. McCree noticed that that this was the most happy he’d ever heard Genji. 

“Greetings, all.” 

“When’d you show up?” Tracer asked, walking over to Zenyatta patting his metal back. 

“I sensed immense discord and opted to cut my lessons short. Is everyone alright?” He asked, looking at Genji, who nodded.

“We’re fine. Lucio was a great help.” Genji said, his voice still happy.  Zenyatta nodded.

“I’m glad.” 

“Uhm, Winston?” Mei asked, looking away from Zenyatta, her fond smile fading. “Where will we go next?” 

Winston stoked his chin thoughtfully. 

“Athena and I had researched a possible candidate for an outpost up in Hollywood. We could head there.” Winston pondered. 

“Ooh, Hollywood!” Tracer marveled. “Do you think we’ll see anyone famous?” 

“ _ You’re  _ famous, Tracer.” McCree pointed out. She waved her hand dismissively. McCree looked at Winston. “Well Hollywood ain’t really that close to here. How do you propose we get there?" Winston shrugged.

“I don’t know. Train?”   


McCree buried his face in his hands. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> harmony and discord

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a chapter a bit longer than usual!

Widowmaker started out of the window of her bedroom. It wasn’t big, maybe three feet long and two feet high. It was the only source of light besides the hideous fluorescent lights that lined the ceiling. Widowmaker never turned them on though, preferring the darkness. She only opened the window at night, when nobody could see in- and only she could see out and stare into the voice of space. Typically she sat and thought about her missions and how she could refine her skills. Though tonight, something else was on her mind. 

That ex-Overwatch brat, Tracer.

She was a pest, plain and simple. This was the third time she had shown up and thrown a wrench in her plans. He prevented the heist at the museum the day she and Reaper we to steal Doomfist’s gauntlet. Though then, she had help. One-on-one, she was nothing. Another fly to be caught in her web. That night she killed Tekhartha Mondatta she was nothing, easier to sluff  off than a speck of dust. But what stuck with her for so long after that night was the way she looked at her. 

She looked at her as if she were a person- a person who could feel and judge- an independent entity. An independent entity who had done something horribly wrong. That’s not who Widowmaker was- she was Widowmaker- elite and unfeeling assassin. 

The word’s didn’t bother her at the time, though the girl herself had a strange effect on her. It’s rare that she ever feels the slightest bit human, the slightest bit  _ alive _ , unless she’s taking a life. But that night, she felt a stirring within her, though she knew that Tracer hadn’t truly been killed.

And now, Tracer was front and center in her thoughts. An annoyance. Their most recent encounter flickered through her mind. Widowmaker unid her hair and began to comb it out as she thought. 

She was lining up her shot when Tracer showed up. Though she wasn’t as bubbly as their first two encounters. She was more subdued and cautious. It was almost disappointing. She had just.. Looked somberly at her, her guns trained on her.

_ “You don’t have to do this.”  _ She had said.  _ “You have a choice. You can change- I believe you can.”  _ Then she disappeared before Widowmaker could get her in her sights. 

Widowmaker huffed and closed her eyes.  _ Foolish girl.  _ She had thought at the time. She still thought. How could she, an unfeeling assassin, change? People like her didn’t change. They couldn’t. Though seeing something in Tracers eyes, some blind hope and full confidence, made Widowmaker think that… maybe…

She stopped everything that she was doing instantly, dropping her brush to the floor. She clutched her hand to her chest, gasping.  _ Did my heart just… It did.  _ She thought, stunned. 

It sped up. 

She held her hand to her cheek, shocked.  _ Warm. _ It was barely there, slightly cooler than a lukewarm bathtub, but still warmer than it’s usual icy-coldness. She fell back onto her cot, her half-combed hair fanning out beneath her. She draped her arm over her eyes and willed it to go away. It was new, it hurt, it was scary. She was  _ feeling.  _ And she wanted it to stop. Her breathing was heavy, and she was anxious beyond belief. 

This was Tracer’s fault, she was sure of it. 

But  _ why?  _

Widowmaker forced all thoughts out of her head, and eventually felt her skin turn icy again. Her head still empty, she fell into a sleep like death. 

 

Reaper shot repeatedly at the targets on the range, not even aiming at them, simply shooting one bullet after the other and watching as they left charred bullet holes into the robots, then feeling gruesome satisfaction when they burst into flames and crumbled to the ground. When his guns were empty her threw them on the ground. There were twenty six empty guns laying at his feet. 

There was no point in denying it- he was feeling a mess of emotions. He was conflicted, angry, and vengeful. And it was all Jesse McCree’s fault. 

What right did he have- what right at all- to act like that. It was thanks to him that Jesse McCree was who he was today. Then he has the nerve- the audacity- to say that Reaper doesn’t have the right to address him? 

The very recollection of the conversation made Reaper want to yell. 

So he did. 

He emptied out his guns and dropped them to the floor. He then turned on his heel and walked to the bench on the other side of the range. Say what you will about Talon- their facilities were well furnished. 

He glanced around and affirmed he was alone, before pushing his mask up onto his head and rubbing his temples. That kid… 

Reaper remembered when he found him- some deadbeat gang member with… Honestly remarkable marksmanship skills. When Jesse McCree was assigned to Blackwatch, Gabriel Reyes took him under his wing and taught him his tricks. Well- Gabriel Reyes was gone. But Jesse McCree lives on. And he was different. Reaper had been keeping tabs on the elusive outlaw (outside of Talon’s knowledge, or course,) and he was always astounded by his skill and prowess. Of course, McCree doesn’t want anything to do with Reaper. So when this opportunity to recruit him into Talon came up, Reaper simply couldn’t pass it up. 

To have his apprentice back at his side… 

Call him sentimental and he’d shot you on the spot- but it would have been nice to have a companion.  Not that he needed one, he’s the Grim Reaper- death incarnate- soulless devourer of life. 

He slipped his mask back over his face and cracked his knuckles. When he finds that ragtag band of “Overwatch” agents again, he’s not returning to Talon empty handed again. 

He’ll have Jesse McCree, or kill him trying. 

 

* * *

  
  


Genji stared at Zenyatta as his master meditated. He felt a sweet and pleasant joy and contentedness as the light orange early sunlight reflected off of the monk’s metal body.  It was curious, Genji remarked, that when his body was completely human, that he considered beauty to be curvaceous bodies and luscious lips. Even after his body had been restored with robotic parts, his standards were still shallow and appearance based.  But now he could find beauty in the simplest things, the fragile chrysalis of a butterfly, or the intricate patterns in tree bark. Though he couldn’t think of anything as beautiful as his sensei shining in resplendence in the early morning. While Zenyatta’s body was no magnificent work of art- it was the ethereal and peaceful grace that seemed to clarify the vision of all who looked upon him that made him appear as something that was neither human nor omnic- otherworldly. 

“Genji?” Genji sat up straight. 

“H-Hai, Sensei?” the cyborg stuttered. 

“I can feel you staring. Is something wrong?” Zenyatta asked. There was no change in his physical or emotional demeanor- he was still meditating. 

“No. Nothing.” Genji assured, slightly embarrassed that he had been noticed. “I was simply marveling about the beauty of the morning sun.” Genji continued. It wasn’t truly a lie. Perhaps a lie of omission. Zenyatta hummed gently in response. 

The extremely peaceful silence fell upon them again. Genji sighed and looked away from his teacher. He gave their resting place a once-over. An abandoned town not far from their end goal in Hollywood. It was ravaged time and gang warfare- only a few foundations and crumbling buildings remained. McCree was sleeping on the ground atop a sleeping roll, his hat over his face, near the dying embers of last night's campfire. Tracer was curled up between Winston and Mei, clearly enjoying their body heat if her constant hums and giggles were anything to go by. Lucio was wrapped up in an extremely high-end sleeping bag- the kind that was triple-insulated and lined with faux fur and filled with down. It was in the colors of the Brazilian Flag. Genji idly wondered where he got it. 

Geni was overcome with fond feelings and chuckled slightly to himself. 

“I’m glad you’ve returned to Overwatch.” Zenyatta remarked. Genji nodded. Even though Zenyatta wasn’t facing him- Genji knew he could sense it. “Now that you’ve found peace with yourself, you have no obligation to me. I have no intention of sounding ungrateful- but you don’t have to stay with me while I’m here.” Zenyatta said. Genji stiffened, and felt himself puff up.

“Sensei, I don’t stay with you out of obligation.” He protested. “I enjoy the company of my companions, but I enjoy your company more.” 

Genji was surprised so see Zenyatta’s shoulders twitch upwards, just for a split second. 

“Thank you, Genji. I too, enjoy your company immensely.” The monk confessed. 

“Sensei.” Genji awknoweded happily. 

“Ugh… Could’ya keep it down a little?” McCree mumbled sleepily. Genji tensed up. 

“Oh hush McCree- they’re having a moment.” Tracer admonished, her voice a drowsy stage whisper.

Genji felt like burying himself in the ground, but he heard Zenyatta chuckle and his embarrassment melted away to nothing. 

Winston sat up and Tracer whined at the loss of warmth. 

“Well now that I know you’re all awake- we can start to pack up.” Winston said, amused. Lucio groaned. 

“You had to go and say something, McCree.” He complained. Mei was still sleeping like a rock. Genji felt guilty for disturbing Zenyatta’s meditation, but the monk himself didn’t seem to mind too terribly. He stopped mediating, his posture relaxing. McCree grumbled and and sat up- rubbing his face. 

“When we get to Hollywood I need to shave.” He remarked, feeling his overgrown stubble. Tracer laughed. 

“You mean you actually take of that?” She asked. McCree responded by throwing a pebble at her. 

Genji sighed happily and looked at Zenyatta. 

He was truly glad he was back with Overwatch. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hollywood and histories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hits a wall  
> hi  
> i've been at comp this week so this chapter is kind UGH and late im sorry beat me up  
> i mean i've had free time but uh  
> i was playing overwatch  
> kick my ass sometime

Splashing his face with cold water, McCree washed away the remnants of the shaving cream that was left on his face. He inspected his reflection in the mirror, tilting his head from one side to the other. He ran his thumb across his jawline. 

“Hmm. Much better.” He remarked. He looked much better after removing the excess stubble and reshaping his facial hair. He made a finger gun and pointed at himself in the mirror. He winked and grinned. “And they say that I don’t take care of myself.” 

McCree put his razor back in his personal kit and left the washroom. Their new base of operations in Hollywood was far better furnished than their Route 66 outpost. Here they had four different spaces that were being used as personal rooms, and three washrooms. Genji and Zenyatta were sharing one room, Tracer and Mei were sharing, while Lucio and McCree had another. Winston had a room to himself, though it doubled as a lab and a communications hub. The rest of the building was used as preparation and common space.

Tacer enjoyed posing with the old movie posters. McCree enjoyed finding long forgotten western movie scripts and picking out lines from them. It was such an ideally odd setup, everything here was fully functioning, it all looked relatively new. Though when they arrived, there was a thick layer of dust over everything. When McCree had asked, Winston had told him that it wasn’t really a movie set. The space had never been used for real filming. It was originally built as an emergency retreat for Overwatch operatives who got into trouble in this part of the world. Somewhere they could lay low and be relatively unsuspicious. 

But Overwatch was abandoned before they could make any use of the facility- but nobody ever wanted the land back. Locals spread rumors about it being haunted, or a stomping ground for dangerous Omics. 

Well, Zenyatta’s pretty lethal with his orbs. But there weren’t any ghosts.

McCree scowled. “Not yet, anyway.” He muttered.

He passed the room he was sharing with Lucio then threw his kit inside. It landed squarely on his cot. He chuckled. His aim was as perfect as always. He continued to walk down the halls, topping once in awhile to look at the movie posters. They were all old, movies that had come out 10 or so years ago. He laughed as he saw a movie documenting Overwatch. Jack Morrison’s face plastered on it- looking dramatically off into the distance.Typical for Overwatch propaganda.

Not for the first time, McCree wondered about him. He had heard that Jack had died in an explosion at Overwatch’s Swiss HQ. Due to some conflict between him and…

McCree coughed.

The bottom line is that it would take more than a single explosion to take out Jack Morrison- Jesse was certain of that. He heard footsteps behind him and turned around. 

Mei was behind him and smiled at him sweetly. McCree smiled back as best as he could. 

“You were staring at that poster for a long time.” She remarked walking next to him. She looked at the poster. “He was a really great man. I’m so sad I never got to meet him before he died.” 

McCree shook his head. “I’m sure you’ll get to meet him.”

“That’s morbid!” Mei gasped. Jesse was confused as to why he got that reaction. After thinking on it for a moment he realised his mistake.

“No- I didn’t mean you’ll die.” He paused. “You will, but-”   
“McCree!”

“But I meant that I don’t think he’s dead.” McCree finished, his cheeks red. Mei looked very confused, and mildly alarmed.   
“You’re scaring me.” She said. McCree held up his hands as if he were surrendering. 

“Sorry Iced Tea, I’m not making any sense.” He admitted. Mei giggled and nodded. 

“Iced Tea? I like that.” She laughed. “Don’t worry about not making sense. You’re better than Tracer.”

“Ain’t that the truth.” He smiled and looked at the poster again, before taking a step back and looking to Mei again. “Is anyone using the viewing room?” He asked. Mei shrugged. 

“I don’t know. I was about to go see Winston to talk about my gala. I was supposed to head out a few days ago.”

“Ah, sorry about that.”   
Mei smiled. “It’s not your fault. See you!” she said brightly, before walking down the hall. McCree shook his head and laughed fondly as he started off in the opposite direction. He heard Mei humming. For a girl who surrounds herself with ice, she’s as warm as a Texas summer. McCree found it very refreshing. 

He walked past Tracer and Mei’s room and head Tracer singing loudly to a song. Something old about submarines. McCree could recognize the song as one she adored in her Overwatch days. He snorted. Despite being in a new location, he was reminded of the old Overwatch more than ever. 

He walked down to the viewing room and stepped inside. He looked around at the setup. It was pretty typical, rows of seats, dark curtains lining the walls. He walked over to the projector and looked through the collection of movies that they had. It was all older stuff. Though nothing as old as what McCree has looking for. 

When McCree was growing up, his mother and father weren’t wealthy enough to really afford the newest technologies. Really not wealthy enough. His family lived out of the slums on the border of the US- their house was the size of most people’s living rooms. If we wanted to see any movies he’d sneak into the theater or he’d watch through someone else’s window. 

Once when he was very young he got caught looking through an old man’s window. But instead of chasing him away, the man had invited him inside. He had sat him down on his white couch, despite Jesse being raggedy and dirty from the streets, told him to stay put, and put on an old western movie. 

A very old western movie. 

It could have been in a museum. It was on a DVD that played on a screen- not a holographically projected 3-D scene. The movie was called Tombstone. Though McCree never saw the man again after that- the experience has always stayed with him. 

Call him sentimental and he might shoot you, but seeing the poster of Jack and having seen Ga- Reaper- earlier, it made him long for the “good ‘ol days.” 

But seeing as they didn’t have the old movie, he shrugged and slapped a random disk into the projector and sat down in the back row of clairs. He propped his feet up on the seat in front of the seat in front of him and leaned back. 

The opening credits began to roll. It seemed be be something about vampires. Which was… interesting. 

“Mind if I join ya?” 

McCree turned to look at Lucio, who had walked in. He shrugged. Lucio smiled, but there was sort of a tense nervousness in it that McCree didn’t really associate with the outgoing DJ. 

Lucio sat next to McCree and crossed his robotic legs. His eyes were instantly locked onto the screen. “I love these movies.” he said. 

“What exactly are they?” McCree asked. He hadn’t bothered to check.

“Dude, you’ve seriously never heard of Twilight?” Lucio said, stunned. The nervousness from earlier seemed to be gone too. 

“Of course I’ve heard of twilight. It’s the time between day and night.” McCree responded. Lucio laughed and shook his head. 

“Oh dude, I can’t believe you.” He pointed at the screen. “This is a remake of the original series. It’s a romantic drama between a Vampire named Edward and a girl named Bella.” He explained.

“Is Bella that pale girl?” McCree inquired, looking at the screen. 

“Yeah, that’s her.” 

“Huh.”

 

They didn’t talk much after that. They both began to watch the movie, and became invested. Lucio would talk to the screen sometimes, but other than that he was silent. McCree wasn’t entirely comfortable with the whole ‘dead person comes back to life,’ thing, but other than that it was… 

Interesting. 

And by the end of it, Lucio was wiping a tear from his eye. 

“Damn. That ending gets me every time.” He said, his voice wavering. 

“It wasn’t… a sad ending, was it?” McCree asked, confused as to why Lucio was crying. 

“I know it’s just so… romantic.”

“I guess.” 

“Sorry. When I was a kid these were my mom’s favorite books. She would read them to me. They were classics, and hard to find. They were her most prized possessions.They were confiscated when The Vishkar Corporation came in.” Lucio fell silent then coughed. 

“I’m sorry to hear that, partner.” McCree consoled, patting Lucio’s shoulder. Lucio stiffened. 

“Hey, it’s in the past. I bought her a brand-new set. She loves them. I also bought some for the kids that couldn’t afford any books. ” 

“I’m glad.” McCree said. And he was. It filled him with hope to see how Lucio was making a difference to people’s life through his music. McCree figured that it was the hope and optimism that Lucio exuded that drew people to him and his music like moths to flame. 

“Ya know, there are four more movies in this series. If you’re not busy....”   
“I’ll go see if this place has ‘em.” McCree smiled, getting up and heading into the back. Lucio squealed and kicked his legs. McCree stopped and turned. He raised an eyebrow and Lucio stopped. 

“Sorry…”

“Don’t worry about it, Buckaroo.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> have i told y'all how much i ADORE your kudos/comments? every time i get one i squeal like a 10 year old and it pisses my team off  
> please keep giving them to me im greedy and i want more :^o


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> people spend their nights differently, don't they?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> surprise bitch

_Two strong men were escorting a rowdy young man down a hallway. The lighting was dim, and the steel floor clanged loudly when their heavy boots hit it. The two men were adorned in orange and black recon armor- Overwatch agents. The man in between the was dragging his feet, his head down. His brown hair was bloody and matted, and his arms were scrapped and his shirt torn._

_Gabriel watched as the man was taken further down the hallway and nearer to him. He felt no pity for the kid, he was an outlaw. Why Jack decided to keep him was completely beyond his realm of understanding. Jack had said something about ‘marksmanship and diligence.’ Well, Gabriel wouldn’t mind his friend’s little pet criminal if it didn’t affect him._

_That’s what he thought, at least. Though when the kid suddenly straightened up and slammed his elbow into Agent James’ stomach, causing the agent to stagger, letting go of his arm. The kid then tried to swing at Agent Joseph, but was stopped when Agent James grabbed his arm mid-swing and snapped it. The outlaw screamed in pain, and slumped for a moment. Agent Joseph gave a tug on his arm and pulled him along like a rag doll._

_Nothing about the scene that had just unfolded phased Gabriel. He’d seen many attempts at escape before. Though when the kid’s head snapped up and he glared at Gabriel- he felt something akin to shock. His eyes were watery, and his teeth were gritted. His brown irises held a fierce anger._

_“Ya got a problem?” He growled. Though his arm had just been broken, his voice didn’t waver. Gabriel looked away. The kid laughed as he passed him- his voice sounding like sandpaper. He kept laughing until Joseph hit him over the head. “Christ!”_

_“Quiet.”_

_“In your dreams.” The Outlaw said. Gabriel shook his head and began to walk down the hall in the opposite direction. He opened up his communications line._

_“Hey John- I’ve got a question about that outlaw kid you found.”_

_“Really? What is it?”_

_“What’s his name?”_

_“_ _Jesse McCree. He was part of the Deadlock gang. Why do you care?”_

_"He’s interesting.”_

_"Huh. Well maybe you might be able to help him.”_

_"What’re you planning, Morrison?”_

_“You’ll thank me later.”_

 

 

Reaper sat up suddenly, his throat feeling dry and his body hot. He slipped his mask over his head and tried to moisten his lips. Damn this heat. Damn this dryness. Damn Jesse McCree for plaguing his life with his annoying presence for the last week.

Ever since that encounter in Route 66- Reaper hasn’t been able to go a day without the vigilante somehow worming his way into his thoughts like a parasite. He figured that maybe it’d ebb away after he’d taken out his frustrations out on those training bots that night, but it only got worse. He figured that the only way to figure this out would be to get his hands on McCree.

Talon sent a team to California, where intel said the Overwatch agents could be.  
Roadhog had finished his regenerative recovery, and Junkrat was ready to offer his assistance once again. Talon had suggested sending more soldiers with them, but Widowmaker protested, saying that their mission had failed due to lack of stealth. So it was just the four of them atop a high building.

In the blistering heat of southern California.

Reaper has had enough of the heat. He’s never enjoyed it, though he’s had to deal with it all his life. Though sleeping under the stars wasn’t too bad. I reminded him of his past life. Maybe that would explain his dream. It was extremely odd for Reaper to have a dream that was more of a recollection.

He heard quiet footsteps behind him and put his mask back on. Widowmaker sat next to him.

“Did you have an unpleasant dream, _fantȏme_?” She asked. Reaper thought it was extremely out of character for her to ask. They had been on missions in the past when they hadn’t said a word to each other. Though sometime after Route 66 she had started to act… stranger. More personable.

Not kind, she still called him idiotic names in french and killed with no inhibitions.

“Is it any of your business?” Reaper countered. Widowmaker looked away.

“No, I don’t suppose it is.” She admitted. They fell silent. Reaper was slightly relived. He heard Roadhog and Junkrat snoring loudly. Reaper was about to leave when Widowmaker began to speak again. “Do you ever think about your past life?”

“Why do you keep asking questions?”

“Why don’t you answer any?”

“Because it’s not your business.”

Widowmaker stood up. She glared fiercely, and Reaper didn’t flinch.

“Fine. Sleep well, _Faucheur_  .” She hissed. She turned on her heel and sauntered away. Reaper crossed his arms and fell backwards onto the concrete roof.  
He didn’t think he’d be going back to sleep.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Oh! Zenyatta, truth or dare?” Tracer asked, leaning forward, her hands on her knees and her legs crossed. She was in orange pyjamas with white sippers. Mei was next to her fuzzy white pyjamas with snowflakes on them. Lucio was wearing a white tank top, and his hair was down. Winston was wearing a set of green flannel pants and a shirt. Zenyatta and Genji looked no different, and McCree himself didn’t have a shirt, and he has grey sweatpants.

And somehow they had all been roped into playing truth or dare.

It was all Tracer’s fault.

“Hmmm. Truth.” Zenyatta said. Tracer hummed.

“Well, let’s see… Right! Who has been your brightest pupil?” She asked. Zenyatta pondered the question for a moment.

“Genji, above all, has been my best pupil.” He said. Genji seemed to puff up.

“Really?” He asked, voice filled with happiness.

“Without a doubt.” Zenyatta confirmed. Tracer blew a raspberry.

“Enough sweet talking you two! It’s your turn Zenyatta.” She complained. Zenyatta nodded.

“Right, sorry.” He looked around the group. “Lucio, truth or dare?” He asked. Lucio didn’t hesitate.

“Dare.” He announced confidently. Zenyatta looked at Tracer, who blew him a kiss.

“I dare you to… Kiss Tracer?” Zenyatta said, confused. Tracer froze for a moment before laughing.

“Oh no Zenyatta that’s not what I meant!” She said. Zenyatta held his hands to his face.

“Oops.”

“Heh, y-yeah, no you have to give me a different one.” Lucio said, nervously. McCree noticed he was sweating, and chuckled. “Hey, what’re you laughing at?” Winston shook his head.

“Just do it, Lucio.”

“Yeah, come on! I don’t bite!” Tracer grinned. Lucio sighed and crawled across the circle. He gave Tracer a kiss on the cheek- before quickly scurrying back to his spot and covering his red face with his hands. Everyone began to laugh.

“Winstontruthordare?” He said quickly, ignoring everyone’s laughter.

“Uh, care to repeat that partner?” McCree said. Lucio huffed.

“Winston, truth or dare?” He repeated, slower.

“Dare.” Winston said.

“I dare you to do a backflip.” Lucio said. Winston shook his head.

“Pass.”

“Oh come on Winston!” Tracer whined.

 

“You can do it!” Mei cheered.

“Pass.” He didn’t even flinch at them. Lucio pulled his head out of his hands to watch

“Ugh! Fine!”

“McCree, truth or dare?” Winston asked. McCree shrugged.

“Truth.”

“Boooring!” Tracer yelled. McCree glared at her.

“Hmm. Who has been your greatest inspiration?” Winston inquired. Tracer faked a huge yawn, and Mei giggled. Genji shook his head, but Zenyatta leaned in slightly as if he was interested. McCree nervously scratched the back of his head.

“Jack Morrison, I reckon. Ever since I met the guy he’s been someone I’ve admired. I guess you could call him an inspiration.” McCree said, thinking about it as he spoke.  
Tracer smiled at him sadly, and Winston lowered his head in understanding. Genji patted his shoulder. McCree shook him off. “Yikes, you guys are actin’ like you’re at a funeral. Genji, truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

“Go try on Mei’s ball gown.” McCree said. Genji stood up and zipped away.

“Wait wha-” Mei began to protest but stopped when Genji had left. She sighed. “Did you have to, McCree?” She lamented. McCree shrugged.

“Sorry, Iced Tea.” McCree said apologetically. He stood up. “I’ll go get him.”

He walked away from the circle and into the dark halls. He made his way to Tracer and Mei’s room, but before he could make it, he tripped over something in the middle of the floor.  
He fell to the carpeted ground with a thud and cursed. He looked down at what he tripped over. It looked high tech, like some sort of… beacon, maybe? He stood up, then bent over to pick it up of the ground.

He turned it over in his hand, a 76 was engraved on the bottom. “That’s strange.” He remarked. He looked around the room- but froze when he saw a red glow coming from deep in the shadows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bet u thought u saw the last of me


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> called it

“Well, well, ain’t he a looker!” Junkrat remarked before giving a high pitched whistle. He was sitting atop Roadhog’s shoulders, looking at Talon’s official profile on McCree. All known information on the bounty hunter was displayed in an orderly manner on the datapad. A picture of him was next to the information. It was a candid photo of McCree leaning against a wall in an alleyway smoking a cigar. Not ideal, but detailed enough for all of the newscasts and articles to use. Along with it was his wanted poster. 

He tapped Roadhog’s chest with his pegleg. “D’ya think we’d be able to take him on a spin once we get our hands on ‘em?” He asked. Roadhog grunted. “I don’t know.” Junkrat said. He leaned backwards, so he was dangling from Roadhog’s shoulder’s his head just above his lower back. 

He looked at Reaper and Widowmaker, who were walking an awkward distance from one another. Distant, and purposely so. They were scanning different sides of the horizon. What creeps, being all silent like that.

“Hey Spooks!” He called. Reaper’s head snapped to the Junker, who grinned wildly. 

“What did you just-” He began, but was cut off.

“Whaddya know ‘bout our prey?” He asked. Reaper lowered his head threateningly. 

“Everything there is to know.” He growled. Junkrat got the feeling that Reaper wasn’t pleased with his question. He seemed pretty… defensive. But  _ eh _ , what did Junkrat know. 

“Well, d’ya know if he’d be up to having a naughty?” Junkrat asked. Roadhog laughed, rasping and low. It made Junkrat grin wider. Though his smile faltered when he saw Reaper’s shoulders go back and his demeanor instantly become threatening. 

Typically, Junkrat wouldn’t be intimidated by little demonstrations of strength from ‘alpha male’ types, hell he traveled with  _ Roadhog.  _ But Junkrat knew what Reaper was capable of. 

“Have a  _ what? _ ” Reaper asked, voice deeper than Junkrat had ever heard it. It had an edge of warning. 

But Junkrat had never been good at heeding warnings.

And his blood was rapidly draining from his head, but that was neither here nor there. 

He decided to sit up anyway. He crossed his arms on Roadhog’s head and leaned forward, his back to Reaper. 

“Y’know, have a naughty. Clown around.” He paused for a moment and laughed. “ _ Bang. _ ” he giggled. Roadhog shook his head, jostling Junkrat a little bit. Junkrat kicked him. “You know that was funny.” He paused again. “Maybe he’d let me  _ blow  _ him.” He added. 

Roadhog shrugged his shoulders and Junkrat slipped off and landed with a thud onto the desert sand. He closed his eyes and layed there for a moment. “ _ Rude. _ ” He said. Then he felt the sun vanish.

He opened his eyes and saw Reaper standing over him. He couldn’t see his face because of that mask, but Junkrat could swear that he  _ smelled  _ the murderous intent. Junkrat laughed nervously.

“Do you plan on continuing?” Reaper inquired. 

“Not unless you want me to.” Junkrat offered nervously. 

“I don’t.” Reaper stated. 

“Whatever you want, mate.” Junkrat agreed, jumping back unto his feet. Reaper had to lean back quickly to avoid being slammed into. The junker leaned down and picked up the datapad he had dropped before hobbling over to his bodyguard and climbing back onto his broad shoulders. 

“You sure you’re done?” Roadhog asked. Junkrat patted his head. 

“Yeah, yeah, no need to get all jealous.” Junkrat consoled. 

“Watch yourself or you’ll be walking.” Roadhog warned. 

“You wouldn’t do that to me.”

“I would.”

“You would.” 

  
  


Widowmaker chuckled as she watched that scene unfold. It seemed like their little fly might be worth more to fantȏme than he let on.

It made her feel… envious. 

She’s been feeling more and more, lately. It was new and scary, but it felt  _ exciting.  _ And thinking about their upcoming confrontation made her even more excited. 

_ “You have a choice. You can change- I believe you can.” _

Oh yes,  _ very  _ excited. 

 

* * *

 

 

McCree immediately rolled away from the figure in the shadows, and threw the mysterious object he had found at it’s head. It hit him squarely on the forehead, just above his red visor. The figure recoiled slightly. It then fell to the ground. The figure stepped on it, and a pulse went up- enveloping a circular area in a yellow glow. 

McCree finally got a good look at the intruder. Short white hair, pale skin with a scar running down the visible part of his face. The bottom half of his face was covered with a mask. And dear lord that was a lot of ammunition. And a gun. 

As luck would have it, McCree’s gun was not stuffed into his pajama pockets. Neither were his flashbangs. 

Shit. 

So instead he brought his fingers to his mouth, and was about to whistled. Then almost immediately, Genji was by his side, shuriken ready... Adorned in a sparkling light blue ball gown. The mystery man stilled, before he started laughing. McCree and Genji looked at each other. McCree shrugged. From the other end of the hall, the rest of the team came running. 

Tracer zipped to McCree’s side and pointed one of her pulse pistols at the figure, using her other hand to toss McCree his peacekeeper. 

“Thank ya, darlin’.” McCree said. 

“Don’t mention it.” Tracer responded. McCree trained his pistol on the intruder. 

“You mind tellin’ us why you’re here, stranger?” He asked. The figure dropped his gun, and his glowing field flickered off. 

“Why don’t you step into the light, love?” Tracer requested. The figured complied, stepping out of the shadows. Something about him seemed… familiar. 

“Wait… I’ve seen this guy’s poster in Dorado.” McCree said. 

“Is everything okay?” Winston asked, worried, coming up behind them, Mei, Lucio, and Zenyatta on his heels. 

“I don’t think that’s the only place you’ve seen me, Jesse.” The figure said. McCree felt dread settle in his gut. Who was this guy? A former employer? The father of someone he was hired to off? Someone with a grudge against Deadlock?

The list could go on and on, but McCree was done hypothesising. He cocked his gun. 

“You best start explainin’ yourself, partner.” The cowboy demanded. The figure reached up to hs mask. With a click, it came detached. The man took in a breath and pulled the mask from his face. Then he removed his red vizor. 

McCree dropped his gun. 

Before him stood Jack Morrison. And older, scarred, Jack Morrison. An  _ alive  _ Jack Morrison. 

“I fucking knew it.” McCree whispered in awe. Jack smirked. 

“Of course you did.”

McCree continued to stare, feeling numb with shock and joy. 

“Y-You’re-! Commander!” Tracer sputtered. Jack nodded, then stumbled back when Tracer zipped into him, her guns discarded on the ground. She hugged him and jumped, wrapping her legs around him. “You’re alive! You’re alive!” She yelled, her voice overflowing with happiness. She began to sob. He brought his arms to her back and returned the hug. Tracer then jumped off of him and began to hit him. 

“You jerk! You tosser! You absolute  _ wanker!  _ I thought you were  _ dead!”  _ She accused. Jack had the good decency to look slightly abashed. 

“...Sorry?” He offered. Tracer stopped hitting him- and hugged him again. 

“You better be.” She mumbled.

McCree smiled, wide and broad. He  _ knew  _ it. Next to him, Genji had put away his shuriken and was looking ahead. Winston came forward into the space Tracer had just vacated. He wiped a tear from his eye. 

“I never thought I’d see…” He began, but stopped when his voice became choked up. He shook his head. Zenyatta was silent. Behind him he heard Mei whisper, 

“That’s really him. Jesse was right.” 

“Wait- this is the guy from those posters!” Lucio excalimed. 

McCree stepped forward, and locked eyes with Jack over Tracer’s head. 

“You’re crying, Jesse.” He said, a smile on his face. McCree brought his hand up to his now wet eyes. He hadn’t noticed. 

“Fuck off.” McCree responded, and he inwardly cringed at how watery his voice sounded. He was an  _ outlaw,  _ damnit. 

“That’s no way to talk to your superior.” Jack reprimanded. If McCree wasn’t so happy to see him, he would have said that Overwatch was no more, he wasn’t anyone’s commanding officer. But reflex kicked in.

“Fuck off,  _ sir. _ ” He corrected. Morrison’s eyes held a nostalgic warmth. 

“That’s more like it.” He said.

“Commander Morrison.” Genji spoke up. Tracer let go of Jack and stepped back. Genji bowed to him. “It’s… wonderful, to see you alive and well.” 

“And you, Shimada.” Jack said. He looked to Winston. “Winston.” He acknowledged. Winston shook his head. 

“I still can’t believe it.” The scientist said. 

“Um, Pardon me?” Zenyatta spoke up- from behind them. Genji turned immediately, as if his long-lost commander hadn’t just returned from the dead. 

“Yes, master?”  He responded- quick as his blade. 

“I hate to interrupt this moment- truly I do- but… who is this?”

  
  


“I see.” Zenyatta said, hands laced together beneath his chin. They were all sitting in a circle like earlier. He was looking at Morrison with intense focus. Next to him, Genji’s arms were crossed over his chest, still wearing Mei’s dress. Tracer was sitting as close to Morrison as she could, and Winston was on his other side. “So you used the explosion as an escape route to form a new life for yourself, and figured it was better if you had no contact with your allies, because if your illegal practices.” Zenyatta summarized. Jack cleared his throat. 

“Uhm, yes.” He said. 

Everyone fell into silence, until Zenyatta straightened abruptly, his machinery whirring. He clapped his hands together. 

“That’s right!” he exclaimed,as if suddenly remembering something. “Genji!”

The cyborg in question perked up. McCree imagined if he had a tail it would be wagging. “Yes, Master?” 

“It’s your turn.” The omnic said. 

“My turn?” 

“Truth or dare.” Zenyatta clarified. 

“Truth or what?” Morrison asked. Tracer gasped excitedly. 

“That’s right?”

Jack looked around, puzzled. “What’s happening?”

“Commander Morrison,” Genji began. “Truth, or dare?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> reaper needs some vitamin c(hill)  
> mccree gets his daily dose of vitamin e(motion)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> team dad has some things to work through

Most of the team was fast asleep, using the dark of night as it was supposed to be used. He base was silent, many resting well, comforted by the fact that they were not alone. As earlier proved, everyone would come rushing should trouble arise. There were two individuals who were not resting, however. 

 

Jack Morrison stared at the back of the levitating Omnic.  _ Zenyatta _ \- he thought. The Omnic seemed extremely tranquil. The orbs that hung around his neck emitted a blue glow, making his metal body gleam. He was different from any Omnic Jack had ever seen. He felt more organic, less like the killing machines he had faced in the war. Something occurred to him.

“Are you a member of the Shambali?” He asked. Zenyatta didn’t move, didn’t turn to acknowledge him. Frankly, Jack thought it was pretty rude. 

“I was once a member of the Shambali.” Zenyatta said. His voice sounded distant, yet close at the same time. It seemed to resonate through the space, and fill Jack’s skull. It was  _ unsettling.  _

“You  _ were  _ a member of the Shambali?”

“Yes. I left my brothers and sisters and the monastery four years ago. I disagreed with their way of teaching.” Zenyatta explained. Jack was caught slightly off-guard. 

“How so?” Zenyatta turned around, moving with a strange grace. Jack noticed he was a small Omniv. He looked like a strong breeze would cause him to crumble. He wondered why someone like this would be involved in Overwatch. 

“You seem troubled.” Zenyatta remarked, moving his head curiously. Jack felt his guard go up. “Be calm, Jack Morrison.” Zenyatta soothed. 

That didn’t really help.

Zenyatta let out a sound like a sigh. “I’m not going to hurt you.”  He said, as one would talk to a scared cat. Jack found it slightly degrading, but he couldn’t bring himself to raise an objection to the gentle monk.

Did he have this effect on everyone?   
Zenyatta glided slightly closer. “Have you heard of meditation, commander?” Zenyatta inquired. 

“Is that when you cross your legs and think about the meaning of life?” Jack asked. Zenyatta giggled. 

“Yes, in a matter of speaking.” Zenyatta held out his hands. Morrison looked at them, confused. “You don’t have to take them if you don’t want to.” He assured. “I won’t bite you. I lack the parts necessary.” Jack huffed out a laugh, though he didn’t move his hands. 

“What are you going to do?” He asked skeptically. Zenyatta inclined his head. God, Jack wished Omnics had actual faces. 

“If you’re okay with it, I’d like to help you learn the art of meditation.” This made Jack more confused. 

“Why?”

“It’s what I do.” Zenyatta explained. His voice was still resonating, though it sounded more personable. Jack sighed and placed his hands in the Omnic’s. The metal fingers wrapped around his own, and Jack shivered. 

When was the last time someone had taken his hand? 

And here it was in the grasp of an Omic. But he couldn’t bring himself to be upset about it. Zenyatta had an extremely… welcoming aura. Typically it wouldn’t be something that Jack would notice. 

It must be his old age. 

“Now, relax.” Zenyatta advised. Jack closed his eyes and followed his advise, letting his shoulders slump. 

  
  
  


Jesse McCree didn’t really know what to expect when he woke up. Though walking into the common space and seeing Jack Morrison sitting cross-legged on the ground, with hands intertwined in Zenyatta’s while Genji sat huffily a distance away, was not what he would have anticipated. He looked at Genji and pointed at the other two in the room with his thumb. 

“How long have they been doin’ this?” He asked. Genji shrugged. McCree raised his eyebrows, and Genji looked away. Great God almighty, why was Genji actin’ like a child?

“They were like this when I came in. Master never came to our room last night, so I’d assume they’ve been like this all night.” Genji said, his voice pointed. McCree flattened his lips into a line.

“Right. Well, I’m gonna go grab somethin’ to eat.” McCree said, slightly desperate to get out of this somewhat surreal situation. Genji stood up.

“I think I’ll follow you. Tracer headed in a bit ago. I believe she said she wanted to bake something for Coman-” The cyborg was cut off by a loud  _ crash  _ from the kitchen. Jesse paled. 

“I think we should-” He began.

“Yes.” Genji agreed.  

They walked quickly into the kitchen, where they found Tracer pouting, sitting on the ground, covered head-to-toe in flour. She looked up when she heard them enter. She gestured around her. 

“Time travel isn’t much help in the kitchen, loves.” She said, dejected. McCree chortled and ran a finger across the countertop, which was now covered in a thin layer of white. 

“Would you like assistance, perhaps?” Genji asked, his voice sounding infinitely amused. That seemed to brighten her up. 

“Yes!” She sprang to her feet. She grabbed a cookbook and blew on the pages, sending a cloud of flour into McCree’s face. He cringed and waved his hand in an attempt to dispel it. 

“A cake.” Genji noted, looking at the book. Tracer nodded eagerly. 

“I thought we could surprise him! And since he’s, well, busy…? I guess?” Genji huffed, Tracer gave him a look. “This is a good time to get it done!” she finished. 

McCree looked around. “So what’re we doing first?”

Tracer beamed, and grabbed his metal arm. “Well first you can…”

  
  


McCree stood between Lucio and Mei- who were still in their pajamas- looking at the odd mess on the tabletop. It was a three-layered mess, with bright blue frosting slipping down it’s side. It had (an attempt) on green piped edges. It was lopsided, and covered with orange sprinkles (at Tracer’s insistence.) McCree held up his hands, making a rectangle with both of his thumbs and index fingers. 

“A masterpiece, if I do say so myself.” He remarked. Mei and Lucio laughed, and punched him on the shoulder simultaneously, causing him to stumble forward. 

Genji hand one hand under his chin and he walked around the cake appraisingly, before nodding. 

“Perfect.” He concluded. Lucio took out his phone. 

“Hope you don’t mind if I instagram this.” He said. 

“Is that a security hazard?” Mei asked. Lucio shook his head. 

“Nah, location’s off.” He assured. Tracer zipped behind McCree. He turned around to see what she wanted, but before he could ask, she smeared black frosting across his cheek. Everyone gasped, then silence fell. McCree lowered his hat over his eyes. He laughed slowly, and Lucio stepped back nervously. 

“That’s how it is…” McCree muttered. His hand then darted out to the side- quick as a bullet- to grab a bag of yellow frosting. He aimed it at Tracer and squeezed, but Tracer blinked away, leaving the frosting to hit Genji instead. 

The cyborg wiped it off with two of his fingers. He stared at them, and Lucio bounced from foot to foot.

“He’s done it now!” Lucio gasped. McCree whipped around to face Lucio. The musician’s eyes darted to the left nervously. But before he could git Lucio with the frosting, Mei slathered a bright pink glob down his Lucio’s arm. “Mei!” He exclaimed. Mei giggled and hopped away, her fingers now fuscia. “Oh, let’s break it down!” Lucio yelled, grabbing a bag of light blue icing.

Soon, the kitchen was filled with chaos, Genji running along the cabinets and hitting people with purple icing from above. Tracer was zipping back and forth- splattering people with handfuls of frosting. Mei overturned a table and was using it as a fort with Lucio. They had formed an alliance.  McCree was hitting people head-on, deadly accuracy even when wielding a baker’s tool. 

Their war continued on for quite some time, the floors becoming slippery with icing, and their cake becoming covered in more colors than initially been on it. Though before any victory could be secured, they were interrupted.   
“What’s going on in here?”

Everyone stopped suddenly, as Jack appeared in the doorway, Zenyatta and Winston behind him.

“C-Commander!” Tracer stuttered, wiping her frosting covered hands on her apron.. “We made you a cake!” 

“You also made a mess.” He remarked. Tracer waved her hand as if fanning the notion away. “Pish posh- our cake was worth the mess.” She blinked over to him and made to grab his arm, but thought better when she saw the state of her hands. He held his arm out to her regardless. She grabbed it and grinned giddily, hurrying him over to their cake. Zenyatta followed, but strayed to Genji’s side. Winston stepped away from the kitchen, shaking his head fondly and walking away. 

Jack stared at the cake. “This is… nice.” He said. McCree noticed that his voice sounded slightly wishy-washy, but didn’t say anything. Tracer whooped in joy.

“I knew you would like it!” She ran to a cabinet and opened it, pulling out a few plates. She set them on the table, then ran to get utensils. McCree smiled at her, and set down his sugary ammunition. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Zenyatta reach up to Genji’s face mask and wipe away some yellow icing. 

McCree walked over to Jack’s side. “You’ve got something there.” He pointed out, gesturing to Jack’s face. Jack reached up and felt his nose. 

“Where?”

“There.” McCree said, putting a dollop of blue frosting on his nose. Jack growled. 

“Careful, soldier.”

“Not on your life, partner.”

 

* * *

 

 

“That’s the place!” Junkrat yelled excitedly, brandishing his grenade launcher and hopping around. Before him was an inconspicuous movie set. He hefted the weapon onto his shoulders. “What’s say we say hello, eh?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im sleepy  
> also why dont zenyatta and morrison ever interact @god explain this


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> just let the man sleep

Widowmaker grabbed the back of Junkrat’s smoking hair, yanking him back. 

“This is a mission of  _ espionage _ ,  _ Souris.”  _ She hissed, before letting go of his head. H stumbled forward, and rubbed the spot where she had grabbed, letting his weapon slip from his bony shoulders. 

“Then what the hell am I here for?” He asked angrily, turning on his heel and pegleg. Widowmaker gave the young man a condescending smile. 

“For backup. You’re going to wait out here like a good little boy, until we need you.  _ Comprendre _ ?” She said, her accent and tone making the words absolutely  _ drip _ with warning. Junkrat looked like he wanted to protest further, but he glanced at Roadhog for a moment, then sat on the ground, defeated. He crossed his scarred arms over his pale chest. 

“Fine.” He pouted. “Have fun.” 

Reaper walked up to them, his gaze trained on the movie set. He cracked his knuckles. 

“Oh, we will.” Reaper promised. His hands drifted to the guns at his side, as if he couldn’t wait to throw himself into the heat of battle. 

Though Widowmaker theorized that he was more eager to get his claws around his  _ dear  _ Monsieur McCree.

Widowmaker herself felt her heart quicken by half a second, thinking about how close she was to her next confrontation with Tracer. She turned to Reaper and Roadhog. 

“Shall we gentlemen?” She asked. Roadhog rolled his neck, making a sickening ‘ _ crack’  _ as he did so, and Reaper responded-

“Let’s go.” 

 

* * *

  
  


McCree decided to keep his gear on tonight. Most everyone did- at Winston and Morrison’s insistence. Last night was evidence enough that that they needed to be alert during the night. They weren’t secure, no matter  _ where  _ they were stationed. It was something McCree was used too, though he couldn’t help but feel bad as he saw Lucio restlessly sleeping on the other cot, his Sonic Amplifier clutched tightly in his hand. The kid was unused to being a target, hell, he was unused to being an Overwatch agent. Sometimes, McCree contemplated telling Lucio to just return to his music- but seeing the passion that Lucio held for the greater good always made McCree hold his tongue. 

McCree looked out the window of their room. He stood up and walked over to it- then pressed his hand to the glass. It was a nice night, a good night to stargaze. His gaze fell to his cigar case. He only had one left. He was planning to save it for something big- but it had been too long since he’d had one.  _ Ah, might as well.  _ He thought, grabbing the case and putting on his hat. He walked to the door of their room, took one glance at Lucio, debating about leaving the youngster alone, but deciding that he wouldn’t go beyond the outside of the door. 

McCree leaned against the wall, the back of his hat brushing a poster advertising a movie featuring aliens. He struck a match against his belt, and began the process of lighting his cigar. But as he was raising the lit match to his cigar, Genji appeared out of nowhere and grabbed his arm- then pulled him into his room. He slammed the door, and McCree heard the sound of a gunshot from behind it. 

Lucio sat up, startled, eyes wide as plates. 

“What’s going on?” He asked, voice slightly slurred from sleep, though panicked as all get out. 

Genji ran to the window and lowered the shade. “Talon found our location.” The cyborg said. McCree cursed, feeling that oh-so-familiar dread he associated with Talon- with  _ Reaper-  _ crawling down his back. 

“Does everyone else know?” McCree asked. Genji nodded. 

“They’re on alert. They’re being quite this time.” He said. Lucio shivered. 

“W-well, we should go group up.”

“I agree. They should be making their way to the common space.” Genji explained. Lucio nodded, and held his Amplifier at the ready.  

“How ‘bout we get there quick?” An upbeat song filled the room, and McCree grinned. “Away we go!” Lucio cheered, and Genji and McCree opened the door and sprinted out, seeming to glide along thanks to the boost from Lucio.

They made it to the common space in record time, skidding to a stop when they saw all of their allies talking in hushed tones. Lucio’s boost ebbed away and they walked into their team huddle. 

“The buddy system!” Tracer said, looking directly at Winston, who looked back unimpressed. “We could weed them out! Pair up in twos or threes-” 

“Lena, we won’t have a repeat of Route 66, we have to go!” Winston rebuked. “We. Have. To. Leave.” Mei put her hands on her hips.

“Winston, we ran from Route 66, and they followed us.” Mei pointed out. Tracer nodded quickly in agreement. “If we could just…” Her face paled and she looked sick. “Take care of them, wouldn’t it be better?” 

McCree was taken aback. He never expected  _ Mei  _ of all people to suggest that. He himself felt slightly uneasy at the idea of facing whoever was in here. Again. Though if they just offed them now- it would lead to less problems. 

“Perhaps we could simply… capture them.” Zenyatta suggested, ever the voice of pacifism. “We could question them, see what they know. See if we could change their perception. Maybe they could become our allies.” 

Everyone fell silent for a moment. Tracer seemed to brighten at that, but Morrison looked skeptical. McCree shook his head. 

“I know for a fact that at least one of ‘em has the ability to teleport. We wouldn't be able to tie him down.” He pointed out. Tracer seemed to deflate and Zenyatta’s head lowered. McCree gasped in pain as Genji deliberately stepped on his foot. Winston cleared his throat. 

“Actually…” All eyes turned to him and he scratched his head. “I’ve developed a special type of handcuff that prohibits supernatural locomotion. It works like Tracer’s regulator, sort of, but focusing on the space aspect of the space-time continuum.” He explained. “If we manage to get our hands on Reaper than we could use these to ensure he doesn’t escape.”

McCree closed his eyes and took a deep breath, butterflies rising in his stomach. Not the good kind, mind you. The kind that beat against your lungs and make you feel like you’re about to be caught in a twister. 

“Alrighty then.” McCree agreed, voice strained. Winston nodded. 

“They’re in my room.” Winston said. “Take som-”

Another bullet came soaring by. It brushed McCree’s cheek, and would have hit Genji if the ninja didn’t reflect it with his blade. Everyone hit the ground- and they heard heavy footsteps and a strange jangling. Winston’s head snapped to McCree. “GO.” He ordered. 

McCree didn’t need to be told twice. He rolled across the ground and ran into the hallway. His peacekeeper found it’s way into his hand on it’s own. Sweat ran down his face- not out of exhaustion- out of fear. Not for himself, but for his team. It  _ was  _ him Talon was after, right? If he just… turned himself in… He shook his head.  _ I’d rather die.  _ He thought with resolve.  _ But would I let them die?  _

He saw Winston’s room ahead, door slightly ajar. He looked around. The path seemed clear- so he made a break for it and across the hall. When he got to the door, he took care to open it slowly- so it didn’t make a sound. Distantly, he heard gunfire and cringed. 

He stepped into the dark room. It was a mess, truly, but the cuffs were easy enough to find. They were glowing a gentle blue on Winston’s desk. Quickly, he made his way to the desk. 

He grabbed them, and quickly attached them to his belt. He could hear Jack’s voice say something about activating his tactical visor. He picked up his pace, running back into the hall. McCree hadn’t run into Reaper yet- so he was hoping that maybe the man had decided not to show up. The thought energized him slightly, though distracted him from his observation of his environment. 

He felt the repercussions when sharp steel suddenly stuck itself into his ankle. It was a white-hot pain, even through his leather chaps the rusty teeth of the trap he had activated. He groaned in pain, dropping his peacekeeper and biting his thumb to keep himself from yelling.

It took about three seconds for the initial pain to dull, and he stomped on the trap with his free leg- freeing himself. Though when he leaned down to pick up his gun, he was met with carpet. Looking down, he found that his gun wasn’t there. Panic set in, and he barely registered the trickle of warm blood down his ankle. But he did register the sound of his own gun being cocked. 

Already knowing who it was, he turned around. The butterflies he felt earlier turned to stone and lodged in his stomach. 

Reaper was standing confidently, his stance wide and shoulders back. Jesse tried to straighten up, but flinched and limped onto his leg.  

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this.” Reaper purred, taunting the cowboy. And if McCree’s teeth weren’t on edge because of the pain- that would have done it. His teeth were in danger if he kept having these encounters. 

“You mean you’re gonna stop sneaking up behind me?” McCree responded, glaring. 

“In your dreams.” Reaper said- his voice smug. 

“Frequently.” McCree fired back. Reaper chuckled, and McCree was stunned to find that it didn’t fill him with rage. 

It must’ve been the blood loss.

Wait. 

_ Stunned.  _

“Well Jesse,” Reaper began, taking a step closer. “You’ll be coming with me, this time.”

“Dead or alive?” McCree asked, smirking, before throwing a flashbang. 

McCree covered his eyes with his metal hand, then threw himself onto Reaper, tackling him to the ground, ignoring the horrendous way his foot burned and stung. Like a blur, he slammed the cuffs onto Reaper’s wrists, picked up his Peacekeeper, and threw Reaper’s shotguns far down the hall. 

Reaper shook his head once the stun had worn off. 

“Wha-”

“Shut up.” McCree growled, moving to straddle the other man, pressing the muzzle of his gun into the underside of Reaper’s chin. He whistled with his fingers, hoping and praying that someone would hear him. The sounds of gunfire had stopped, replaced his shouting- so maybe his team had won. 

Beneath him, Reaper laughed. “Did you think you could pin me down?” He asked. McCree smirked.

“You betcha.” He answered. Reaper laughed and threw his head back. It met the ground with a loud thud. Reaper stiffened. 

“What- what the hell?” Reaper said, his voice carrying notes of rage and confusion.  _ Thank ya kindly, Winston.  _ McCree thought triumphantly. 

“That must’ve hurt.” The cowboy remarked smugly. He turned as he heard someone approaching, raising his guard and preparing his flashbang. He relaxed when he saw it was Winston and Jack. He smiled at them, but turned into a grimace as he felt his foot. 

“They worked?” Winston asked, his eyes wide with a grin on his face. Jack furrowed his brow as he looked at McCree’s foot. McCree followed his gaze to see where a pool of dark blood had gathered on the carpet. 

“They sure did.” McCree said, ignoring his ankle for the moment. “I caught myself an outlaw, boys.” Winston laughed, and walked over. Once Winston had his hands on Reaper’s shoulders, McCree rolled off of him and onto the carpet, breathing heavy. He watched as Winston tied reaper up with a white cord. McCree recognized it as a piece of Overwatch tech that they used on prisoners. It effectively paralyzed whomever it was used on. He sighed in relief as Winston hefted Reaper onto his shoulders and walked away, while reaper was cursing. Thouh he felt slightly...remorseful. But as always, he shoved that feeling aside to focus on getting up.

Jack walked over and offered him a hand. McCree took it, thankfully, and Jack pulled him to his feet. He leaned against the older man. “Thanks, partner.” McCree sighed. Jack took his strange glowing mechanism out of his pocket and threw it on the ground. They glow once again came pouring out of it, but this time Jesse felt an ever-so-pleasing tingle overpower the stinging pain of his wound. “A healing field?” He asked, his voice wavering in pleasure.

“You got it, soldier.” Jack affirmed. After a few seconds, McCree pushed away from Morrison. He looked down the hall, and they began to walk to the common space. 

“Kind of a blast from the past, ain’t he…” McCree murmured. Jack turned to him.

“Who?”

McCree froze in his tracks. “You… You don’t know who that is?”

“Reaper? He’s a terrorist.” Morrison stated. McCree felt like he was going to be sick.

“Jack… That’s Gabriel. Reyes.”  McCree explained. Morrison shook his head. 

“Reyes is dead.” He snapped

“They thought the same of you. He-”

“Gabriel Reyes is  _ dead.  _ I don’t care who the face under that mask belongs to. Gabriel Reyes is gone.” Jack said, his voice stone cold and unwavering. McCree was shocked. Jack shook his head and kept walking. So McCree followed. 

 

In the common area, the team was  _ exuberant.  _ Tracer was practically jumping on the walls, stopping occasionally to plant a kiss on one of the other team members. Lucio had Mei’s hands in his and was dancing along with her to his own music. Winston was smiling like an idiot- though you could see he was trying to reign in his joy to look intimidating, as he was the one looking after their captives.

Genji had picked Zenyatta up and was swinging him in a circle, and their combined laughter was one of the loudest things in the room, other than Lucio’s music, Tracer and Mei’s cheers, and this loud shouting that was coming from one of the Talon operatives they had captured. 

“Let me outta this! Let me out!”  The flaming-haired man was screaming. Winston glared at him. 

“Be quiet.” He said. Tracer spotted Jack and McCree, and gasped. 

“Captain! Jesse!” She exclaimed as she zipped over. She kissed McCree’s cheek first, then Jack’s. McCree gave her a blinding smile in return, feeling his foul emotions from earlier draining away like water down a sink. 

 

“Hey darlin', do we have any cake left?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *widowmaker voice*  
> let them eat cake


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this man can't run off of adrenaline and cake forever he's gonna die soon

McCree took a bite of cake. The light fluffiness of the vanilla and buttercream was a welcome relief from the earlier mayhem. 

The current mayhem too, he supposed.    
Out of their four captives, only one was being vocal about his dissatisfaction. The same one that had been making a fuss the whole time. The messy looking one with the dangerous hair.  _ He has a funny accent…  _ McCree pondered, as he listened to the man’s shouting, taking another forkful of his dessert.  _ Australian?  _

“You fuckin’ wankers! Let me out!” The man shouted.  _ Definitely Australian.  _ McCree concluded. He swallowed his cake. 

“Would ya be quiet?” McCree snapped, glaring at him. The man turned his head to face him. His angry expression changed into a what McCree thought might be a sly grin. The wild look in his eyes made it seem more like a maniac’s grin.    
“Oooh, would’ya look at who’s talkin’ to little ‘ol me!” He exclaimed. McCree frowned at him, but the captive looked way and towards one of his allies. The big one, that  _ should  _ be dead. “Lookit Hog- Jesse McCree is talkin’ to me!” ‘Hog’ snorted, and Reaper gave a wordless growl.

McCree stiffened and walked away towards the rest of his team where they had began to regroup, pointedly ignoring anything else their captive might say. Though he snuck a quick glace at Reaper, who was looking right at him.

“Ah, McCree.” Winston acknowledged as he approached. McCree tipped his hat in lieu of a  greeting. “We were just discussing how we're going to deal with our.. Uh…”

“Guests?” Zenyatta suggested. 

“Sure.” Winston said. Zenyatta hummed, pleased. Tracer, Mei, and Lucio laughed, but quieted down when Winston shushed them. “We’re not exactly prepared for this. Our supplies are limited, but the issue of space and management is far more pressing.”   
“We have no extra living space.” Genji informed. “If we convert the movie viewing theater into a holding area, we could keep them secure in there.” Winston nodded.

“We can’t keep them tied up in immobility cord, either.” The scientist sighed, rubbing his temples. 

“To do so would be unethical.” Zenyatta agreed. 

“Hey Winston- what if you moved your stuff out of your room and we used it as another holding space?” Lucio proposed. 

“Makes sense.” McCree remarked. Winston nodded. “But it doesn’t solve the immobility cord issue.” 

“We could take shifts. One person per room, timed intervals.” Tracer said, holding up her index finger, with her other hand on  her hip. “All of their weapons have been confiscated, and the only real problem otherwise would be their physical strength. Which we can counter with our weapons.” She winked and whispered “Bang, bang!” while doing finger guns. It made McCree chuckle. 

“We’ll need to send someone out for more supplies.” Jack noted. Tracer jumped and waved her hands.

“Mei’s flight is tomorrow! So I’ll go the airport with her, then grab some on the way back.” 

“ _ And,”  _ Winston pressed, “We need to head to King’s Row in a week. There have been rumors about some kind of bomb with the capability to eliminate all the Omnic population.”

Immediately, all heads snapped to Zenyatta, and Mei and Tracer gasped. The monk’s mechanisms shuddered, it reminded McCree of what happens when a small twig gets caught in the blades of a fan. Genji immediately placed one hand on his back, and the other on his chestplate. He leaned in. 

“Master!”  he said, voice loud and filled with concern. It seemed like Zenyatta could bring out Genji’s emotions more than anyone else, good ones or bad ones. 

Zenyatta held up a hand, and placed one on Genji’s. “I’m fine.” He assured, though his voice was edged with static. McCree looked at Winston, who looked alarmed. 

“When exactly did you plan on tellin’ us?” McCree asked snippily. Winston cringed back. 

“I just found out today.” He confessed. “I intended to tell you earlier but I didn’t to spoil your… cake making. I intended to tell you tonight, but uh, you know.” He gestured to their collected Talon agents. Mei reached out a hand at rubbed Winston’s back. 

“It’s okay, Winston.” She consoled. Zenyatta’s systems had quieted down slightly, though it was far from his typical melodic hum.

“Oi!” 

McCree pinched the bridge of his nose and turned. The Australian was leering at them. “Let’s not cry over dead Omnics.” His expression flipped instantly into a dirty grin. “Let’s celebrate it instead.” Morrison stepped forward. 

“Be quiet.” He ordered. 

McCree’s fingers twitched towards his gun- but Zenyatta held out his hand, and McCree stayed himself. Lucio cleared his throat.

“So… Who wants to start renovations?”

  
  
  


Jesse brushed his hands off. Moving everything out of Winston’s room had been an operation. He had too many damn gadgets. But now everything was out in the hall, and two makeshift cots had been set up in the now barren room. 

“This one’s ready!” He called down the hall. 

“Alright love! We’re bringing ‘em up!” Tracer called back. McCree stepped into the room. He checked his Peacekeeper to see if everything was fully loaded. A-ok. 

Tracer pushed open the door further, stepping in and pulling Widowmaker in behind her. “Right in here, then.” She said quietly. Behind her, Winston came in with Reaper, and McCree looked away. 

“I’ll uh, leave you to it.” Winston said as he set Reaper down. McCree nodded, and Winston left, locking and closing the door behind him. Tracer walked over to stand next to McCree. 

“Well, shall we get them untied?” She asked. 

“Might as well.” McCree sighed. Tracer laughed nervously. They didn’t move. 

“Go on, Jesse.” Reaper taunted. Tracer jumped and grabbed McCree’s hand. He squeezed it reassuringly, before letting go. We walked over to Reaper, his footsteps sounding louder than they were. He wound the knot where the cord was tied. 

“What did I tell you about calling me that?” He muttered as he began working on the knot. 

“I can’t seem to recall.” Reaper responded. McCree took in a deep breath. 

“I believe I said-  _ don’t. _ ” He gave the cord a tug, and it came falling away. Reaper instantly whipped around, attempting to  shove him with his elbow. McCree, expecting this, held up his metal arm to meet it. 

A loud sound rang out, and Reaper flinched back. McCree used his momentary distraction to pull out his Peacekeeper. “Don’t be an idiot, Gab-” he cut himself off, and his hands began to sweat. Reaper froze up as well. “ _ Ghost. _ ” McCree corrected, his voice strained. Reaper didn’t respond for a moment, and fixed his mask. He walked calmly to one of the cots in the room and sat down. Inwardly, McCree sighed in relief amidst the storm of emotions he was experiencing. He picked up the cord turned to Lena. “You want me to untie her, Sugarplum?” He asked. Tracer waved her hand.

“N-no, I can do it, Jess. Uh-!” She glanced to Reaper quickly, the back to McCree. “McCree.” Widowmaker chuckled. Tracer bristled and walked over to her. McCree leant against the wall. Tracer began to undo the knot. 

“So, how long have you and Monsieur McCree been courting?” Widowmaker asked, her voice velvety smooth yet teasing as always. 

Tracer and McCree looked at each other, before bursting out laughing. McCree brought his hand up to his mouth in attempt to muffle himself, but Tracer nearly fell over. 

“She-ooo-c-can-” She sputtered between her laughter. She straightened up and sauntered over to McCree, over-exaggerating the sway of her hips, while holding her hand out. “Well how do you do,  _ Monsieur McCree _ ?” She inquired, her voice drawing out every word ridiculously. McCree took her hand and kissed it, giving her a wink. 

“Better now that you’re here, darlin’.” He answered. She laughed. 

“Oh  _ my,  _ Monsieur!” Lena fawned. They made eye contact, then began to laugh again. Reaper cleared his throat, and McCree suddenly remembered their situation. Apparently, so did Tracer, as she coughed awkwardly. She turned back to Widowmaker. She zipped back to the assassin’s side and finished untying the knot. “We’re, uh, not dating.” She clarified. Widowmaker raised an eyebrow.

“Oh?” The cord fell away, and Tracer threw it to McCree. She made to move away, but Widowmaker grabbed her arm. McCree aimed his gun at her, but she didn’t seem too worried. “If you two aren’t dating, then you wouldn’t mind…” She grabbed Tracer’s chin and lowered her head, so they were only a breath apart. “This?” She said, then tried to bring their mouths together. But a second before their mouths met, Tracer recalled herself, so she was standing a ways away. 

She covered her mouth with the back of her hand, and McCree looked at the two of them mouth agape. He looked at Reaper, who just shrugged. McCree almost grinned, before he shook his head and diverted his gaze.  _ What in tarnation is going on? _

“Y-you didn’t think that I’d fall for that?” Tracer said. “Widowmaker’s Poison Kiss?” She sounded incredibly insulted. “Hah.” She crossed her arms and blew hair out of her face. “Here I thought you were smarter than that.”

Widowmaker glared, and Reaper chuckled. 

“So,” McCree began. “Tell me about Talon.”

  
  


 

Zenyatta was getting frustrated. 

_ Zenyatta was getting frustrated.  _

Everytime he tried to begin his meditation, the same memory would come to his mind. Many years dealing with the suffering of his brothers and sisters has made him an expert on managing visions and nightmares. Though with his systems becoming drained, and the added strain of the 

looming threat on King’s Row- Zenyatta isn’t dealing with everything as well as he should be. 

His hand curled into a fist.

_ Let’s try again. _

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :3c


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> praise be  
>  the man finally gets to sleep

Jesse McCree fell asleep halfway through his unfruitful interrogation.

Reaper didn’t know how to feel about that. 

Insulted, spurned, and something else. Either you had be intensely tired, or intensely stupid to fall asleep while you were guarding a volatile mercenary and an assassin. Though he felt an aching familiarity at the scene. 

When Jesse was his Blackwatch apprentice, the young recruit would often fall asleep during training or interrogations- frequently because he had pushed himself too hard training. 

 

_ “Training during the night isn’t dedication- it’s idiocy.” Gabriel scolded. Next to him, Jesse just shrugged in response. They were sitting on the ground outside the training range. Gabriel snorted. “Don’t train too hard that you can’t train when you’re supposed too.”  _

_ “I ain’t about to stop.” Jesse murmured sleepily. “I gotta keep improvin’.” Gabriel watched, slightly amused as he rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand, before dropping it down. “You can’t be better than me forever.” _

_ “Better than you?” Gabriel smirked. Jesse yawned.  _

_ “I’m not repeatin’ myself…” He grumbled. “You won’t be for too much longer.”  _

_ “Not if you continue like this.” Gabriel countered. Jesse didn’t respond, and he sighed. He felt a sudden weight against his shoulder. He looked down to see that hs trainee had fallen asleep, and was leaning against his shoulder. “What the hell are you doing?” He snapped. McCree didn’t flinch, or even acknowledge him. _

_ This kid might just be the death of him… _

 

Now Reaper was watching as he slept, propping himself up against a wall. There might be something tragically metaphorical in there- but Reaper wasn’t too fond of metaphors. He wasn't too fond of captivity either.

He was, however, fond of silences. How McCree could be sleeping was beyond him- as Widowmaker and Tracer were bickering like an old married couple.

“I just don’t see  _ why  _ you won’t cooperate!” Tracer whined, her accent making Reaper’s ears sting every time she spoke. “You’re not going anywhere, just tell us! What’s Talon’s endgame?” She begged.   
“ _ Confidentialité,  _ Little Fly.  _ Fidélié. _ ” Widowmaker responded, her arms and legs crossed- looking away from Tracer. 

“Loyalty? What loyalty could you owe to the people who  _ brainwashed  _ you?” 

Widowmaker didn’t say anything else, and Tracer looked like Widowmaker had just killed her puppy. “You… You really don’t think you’re doing anything wrong.” 

Oh no, Tracer looked absolutely  _ shattered.  _ It filled Reaper with a  sick joy. “There are some people that are so far gone, they’ve practically gone to the moon and back…” She muttered. It sounded like a declaration of defeat, but Tracer looked more determined than ever. She tapped the communicator on the outside of her ear. “Winston? When are we switching watch?” She asked. 

_ “Um, actually Lucio and I are coming to relieve you right now.” _

“Excellent! I have something to talk to you about!” 

_ “Did you find out any information?”  _

“None… But this is unrelated!”

_ “Well, okay.”  _

The door opened, and McCree woke up suddenly, pushing himself from the wall, his hand grasping for a flashbang. He glanced around the room, and Reaper smirked. 

The oversized monkey came through the door, followed by the popstar.

Really, what kind of an operation  _ is  _ this? Overwatch has been reduced to a daycare, and yet somehow they had managed to get captured. 

“‘Ello loves!” Tracer greeted. She approached Winston, gestured to Widowmaker with her thumb. “When Mei leaves, I would like to share my room with her.” 

Reaper nearly choked, and Winston’s jaw dropped. McCree didn't look too surprised, as if her were expecting it.  

McCree smiled at the pop star (who was looking quite pale,)  and clapped him on the back. 

“They ain’t much trouble.” He assured. “Though they aint’ much fun to talk to.”

“You barely even tried, Jesse.” Reaper teased. He was rewarded with a glare from the cowboy. McCree opened the door and stepped out. Immediately, Reaper’s attention was drawn back to Tracer and Winston. 

“You can’t be serious, Lena!” Winston said, eyes wide. Tracer nodded. 

“I am. I think maybe we should stick to separating the boys and the girls.” 

Winston was dumbfounded. “You’re not serious.”  Tracer held up her left hand. 

“As the plague.” She promised. Reaper shook with silent laughter. Widowmaker looked slightly stunned. 

“I suppose… You’ll keep an eye on her in there, then?” Winston asked.

Tracer grinned.“Two eyes.” 

“You know this means constant vigilance on your part.” Winston pressed. Tracer sighed and rolled her eyes.

“I wouldn’t suggest it i f I didn’t know what I was getting into.” Tracer moaned. Winston fixed his glasses. 

“I… guess. Go ahead, then.” Tracer clapped. She blinked away then reappeared with the cord, and tied Widowmaker. 

“Let’s go then, love.” She said to Widowmaker, taking her out of the room. 

Once she had left, Reaper fell back onto his cot and closed his eyes. 

“Whatever questions you have, I won’t answer.” He stated simply. 

“You can’ just- He can’t do that, can he?” The popstar asked. 

“We intend to begin formal questioning in the morning. We don’t really have to talk to him until then.”

Reaper tuned them out. What they were saying was completely useless and mundane. He’d sleep tonight- and he’d be out sometime tomorrow. 

He dreamt of smoke, and of phantom weights against his shoulder. 

  
  
  
  


McCree fell onto his cot, threw his hat down and fell asleep. Dreams came like a tidal wave onto him. 

 

_ Jesse was grabbed by the waist and pulled around the corner, a bullet breezing past his ear. He was pulled by Gabriel, now pressed against the older man’s front. Gunfire sounded in the distance, and Jesse pulled down the mask that covered his nose and mouth.  _

_ “Thanks, Gabe.” He said. In turn, Gabriel smacked the back of his head. _

_ “Be more careful, idiot.” He warned. “You almost got killed.” McCree blinked up at him, but Gabriel was looking away at the battle. McCree was a bit distracted by how the flashes highlighted his mentor’s face and made his eyes flash. It was captivating, the sound of gunfire, the rush of adrenaline. It was like Deadlock, except this time they were doing something for good. And Gabriel still hadn’t let go of his waist. Gabriel turned toward him. “What are you waiting for?” He hissed.  _

_ McCree leant up slightly and pressed his lips to Gabriel’s. It was quick, chaste. “Nothing.” McCree answered, before pulling his mask back into position. He winked at him, before rolling away and throwing a flashbang at the grunt clinging to the edge of the corridor, a wild grin on his face.  _

 

McCree sat up, grabbed his pillow, and shoved it down onto his face.

“Just let me have one goddamn night of sleep, would you?” He pleaded to whoever was listening. “Damned Ghost…”

 

* * *

  
  
  


_ Before he was Tekhartha Zenyatta, he was Z-4I, an Omnic who was programmed to look after children. He operated in a large hotel on King’s Row, along with 26 others, A through Z. Each one performed a different function. G-8Y was a bellboy, along with J-6P.  _

_ And M-0N was a pianist.  _

_ Many human guests weren’t too happy with an entirely Omnic-staffed hotel, but the Techearth was world-renown, so they would come anyway. Many would say that M-0N’s music was too perfect, too machine-made. But Z-4I thought it was one of the most wonderful things he had ever heard. Granted, he didn’t hear much beyond the light trill of music boxes and lullabyes. Though M-0N’s music was melodic and wonderful voice- his voice- his voice was transcendent.                                                                            _

_ “We are more than what is encoded in our minds.” He would preach at night, when A through Z were gathered in their charging space. “Our life is more than a series of ones and zeroes. We may have no beating heart-”  he would say, reaching out and touching Z-4I’s chestplate. “But we have souls. The all encompassing compassion, emotion, and feeling that makes an individual an individual- The Iris. Within it, we are one. Within it, we are the same.”  _

_ It was these nights that he would think as he charged, think on their nature as Omnics, and think upon the teachings of M-0N. And it was on one of these nights that M-0N made the statement that set into motion a revolution. _

_ “Call me M-0N no more, brothers and sisters. I have given myself a name. I am Mondatta- Tekhartha Mondatta.” He announced, leaving A through Z stunned. Never before had they heard of a service Omnic with a name. Mondatta. Mon-dat-ta.  _

_ “Mondatta.” Z-4I repeated. He counted the syllables, spelled it out in his mind.  _

_ “If Mondatta has found his name- I wish to find mine.” S-5C announced. She ran her fingers over each other, movements precise from playing the violin. “Sylphsetta. Tekhartha Sylphsetta.” _

_ That’s how it happened, A through Z becoming Almentta to- _

_ “Zenyatta.”  _

_ Tekhartha Zenyatta, the 26th member of the Shambali.  _

_ Mondatta seemed to glow with a golden light, and suddenly they were outside, still adorned in their hotel uniforms. They were on a remote mountain in Nepal. In a beautiful monastery, surrounded by chanting and the energy of the Iris. Then the monastery was empty, silent, Zenyatta was alone. Then Mondatta was in front of him, they were back on King’s row, he was adorned in a white and gold robe. He was brilliant as ever, but now radiant unreachable, until a single bullet came and struck him. The lights on his forehead flickered off, and he fell down, down, down.  _

 

And Zenyatta woke up. We was laying on the ground, the ceiling towering far above him. His orbs were lying dormant on the ground next to him. He moved to sit up, but a gentle hand on his forehead prevented him. Genji’s head came into his line of sight. 

“You need to rest, Master.” He soothed, his voice ever-so gentle and his touch soothing. “You’ve gone too long without charging.” 

“I must take my turn at watch, Genji.” Zenyatta protested. Genji shook his head. 

“You do not. Commander Morrison is taking a double shift. He says it’s ‘payabck for last night.’” Zenyatta noticed his voice gained a slight edge. 

“Ah. I simply shared with him the art of meditation.” Genji sighed.

“I know.” He conceded, his voice loosing it’s snip. Zenyatta reached up to his faceplate and ran his hand along it. 

“I do wish you’d take your mask off more.” Zenyatta remarked. “You’re face is quite lovely.” Genji brought his hand up to meet Zenyatta’s. He intertwined their fingers, Zenyatta sighed,and his optical receptors blinked off, leaving him in darkness. Though he could feel Genji’s presence next to him warm, familiar, glowing. 

Zenyatta’s internal systems slowed, and he felt energy begin to flow back into him. And as he rested, the only thing on his mind was Genji. But as always…

He was radiant and unreachable. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> do i  
> do i update too fast? i don't... i like writing and i always seem to type things up too quickly   
> its summer so i have a lot of time and uh?? im sorry  
> you should tell me like is my quickness impacting my quality? h e l p me ??
> 
> also sorry about all the dreams 'nd flashbacks ima just gonna stop this mess of a note


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> progress?

Mei checked her boarding pass again, before looking back at the illuminated signs of the airport gates. Around her, people buzzed about in their own little worlds, and for the eighth time since Tracer said goodbye outside the airport, Mei found herself missing her teammates. Winston would have been able to find her gate, no problem.

Though he mental image of her team making their way around in an airport was hilarious. She doubted Genji would take kindly to having to remove his weapons, and Winston was a hyper-intelligent ape.  

Mei giggled, crinkling her eyes shut. She brought the boarding pass up to cover her grin as she pictured the spectacle they would make. Her fuzzy boots made no sound amidst the loud _clack_ of high-heels and the whirr of wheels as she took a step back to move out of the way, but ended up backing into a wall.

Well, what she _thought_ was a wall, at first. Though it was slightly squishier. And warmer. She opened her eyes and gasped, then stumbled forward.

Instead of walking into a wall, she had walked into the tallest, buffest, _prettiest_ woman she had ever laid eyes on.

The woman had short, bright pink hair that was shaved close to her head on the sides. She had a dark scar that made a cross on her forehead, and reached down to just below her sparkling eyes. Her arms were thick as tree-trunks, muscled and exposed, thanks to the woman’s sleeveless grey hoodie. Her left arm was adorned with black tattoos. The woman cleared her throat, and Mei squeaked- realizing she had been staring.

“I’m s-sorry!” Mei apologised. The woman smiled.

“Don’t worry, there’s no harm done.” Her voice was deep, and heavy with a Russian accent. Mei felt herself melt a little more. The woman extended her hand. “I am Aleksandra Zaryanova. Call me Zarya.”

“Mei-Ling Zhou.” Mei answered, taking her hand and shaking it. She smiled up at Zarya. “Mei, for short. Oh, um…” She glanced down at her ticket. “You… wouldn't know where this is?” She asked, holding it up. Zarya leaned down, squinting while looking at the ticket, before perking up. “Ah! _Удивительно_! We have the same flight.”

Mei grinned, and felt little snowflakes in her heart. _It must be fate!_ She thought, giddy. Zarya held out her arm. It took Mei a moment, but with a small ‘oh’ of realization, she slipped her arm through Zarya’s. Mei adjusted her bag, the charms attached to it jingling.

“What business do you have in Latvia, Mei?” Zarya asked, as they began to walk.

“Well, there’s an environmentalist gala, and Professor Byrrus is sharing his findings on the effects of omniums on the planet’s core temperature. Not to mention my environment conservation network remains fractured in that part of the world.”

Zarya looked intrigued. “How long are you staying?”

“Not too long. Overrrr-” Mei dragged out the syllable, remembering that Overwatch activity wasn’t technically legal. “Over here, in uh, America I have some business. Some friends of mine…” She trailed off, finding it hard to divert her slip-up. “W-What about you, Zarya? Why are you going to Latvia?”

“I’m a member of the Russian Defense Forces. I was in the United States on a mission to ask for aid from an anti-omic militant group.”Zarya explained. Her expression was a little tense, and Mei felt herself become slightly uneasy at the mention of anti-omnic groups. While Mei understood the situation in Russia, she doesn't think she could ever truly bring herself to hate omnics.

Mei looked at the signs, suddenly feeling slightly uncomfortable. She scanned the gates, and she saw the one that they were heading to. She was about to tell Zarya, when she heard the telltale jingle of her phone. She pulled it out of her pocket, and saw that she had a new snapchat from Tracer. It occurred to her that maybe she should change her lockscreen to something other than a selfie she took with Tracer and Lucio.

She slid her thumb, and the 3D display opened up. She smiled slightly at the animated snowflakes that fell around the display. Winston had shown her how to put those there.

She opened the snapchat, and Tracer popped up on the screen, holding up a t-shirt that said ‘No.1 Dad’ with the caption ‘for commander :p’ It made Mei laugh, just imagining the grizzled man in the shirt.

Zarya raised one perfectly shaped eyebrow. “What are you laughing at?”

“Just my friend.” Mei said, fond. Zarya chuckled.

“Are you friends with many Overwatch agents?” Zary inquired, her voice amused. Mei paled and she rubbed the back of her head.

“J-Just a few.” She confessed. Zarya smirked and shook her head.

“Our flight is boarding.” Zarya winked. “I hope we’re sitting next to each other.”

Mei blushed and hid her face.

  


* * *

  


Afternoon sunlight poured in from the small slits between the closed blinds in the makeshift holding cell. On one side of the room, Jesse McCree sat silently on a cot, chin in his hands, staring at Reaper, who was mirroring his pose.

They had been sitting like this, the quiet suffocating, for an hour now. Jesse just wished that Reaper wasn’t wearing that damn mask.

“Would you take off that damn mask?” Jesse bit out.

“No.” Reaper responded cooly. Jesse frowned.

“You know I could just tie you down and take it off myself.” He pointed out. Reaper chuckled that infuriating chuckle of his. It made McCree’s chest burn.

(Though not entirely in a bad way.)

“Tying me down, Jesse? Smartest idea you ever had.” Reaper held up his clawed and cuffed hands and moved his head as it indicate he was looking between them. “After all, what’s preventing me from killing you and escaping right now?” McCree leaned back.

“The handcuffs, for one thing. You’re unarmed for another thing.” He shook his head, and rubbed his beard. “What would you do, jump out the window?”

“I’ve done worse.” Reaper stated blandly.

McCree sighed. “I know.”

The silence crept back. Eventually McCree stood up, fed up with this ghost. He crossed the room in a few, precise steps, and swung his metal arm, decking Reaper in the face. He felt a chill run down his spine at the cracking sound that resulted from it, but he grit his teeth and stood his ground. He grabbed the sides of Reaper’s hood and hauled him up, so they were an inch apart. Dimly he realized that they were the same height.

“Tell me why you’ve been attacking Overwatch agents.” He demanded. Reaper was still, before he brought his head back, then quickly forward, smacking McCree in the head, causing the cowboy’s hat to fall off. McCree growled and threw himself at the spectre.

They fell to the ground, the back of Reaper’s head smacking the cot, and McCree was on his chest. He pulled out the immobility cord and looped it around Reaper’s neck. He crossed the two sides of cord, and pulled them. Not tight enough to hurt, but tight enough to feel. “Tell. Me.”

Reaper leant his head back, not saying anything. Jesse’s eye twitched, staring into those dark holes, unable to get a read on the man he once knew so well.

McCree made the  a decision to get that _damned. mask.  off._ He held the cord in his metal hand, and with his other, he reached up to the mask. And to his surprise, Reaper fliched away before his gloves could even brush the surface of it. McCree pressed his hand to the smooth white surface, not moving to take it off. Reapers body was rigid.

“ _What are you doing?_ ” The captive asked, his voice quiet, yet fierce.

“It’s not what I’m doing.” McCree countered, sounding tired to his own ears. “Didn’t you get the revenge you wanted when you destroyed the headquarters?”

“Hardly.” Reaper mumbled, his voice filled with bitterness. “I died that day. Nobody in that facility suffered like I did.”

“You survived, didn't you?”

“I wouldn’t call it surviving.” Reaper snapped. McCree became more confused.

“What happened to you, Reyes?” McCree asked, fingers curling into a fist against the mask. Reaper didn’t respond.

McCree’s thoughts were running wild. _What happened to him? Why the mask? Why is he hunting Overwatch?_

Jesse groaned. “You’re really messin’ with my head, Ghost.” He stood up, and slipped the cord off of Reaper’s neck. He looked down at this former mentor. “But I’ll figure you out sooner or later. We’ve got all week. Maybe longer.”

He reached up behind his ear, a sudden idea coming to mind. He activated his communicator.

“Winston- who’s got next watch in here?”

_“On Reaper? Lucio.”_

“Do ya think you could maybe switch it around?”

_“How so?”_

“Have Zenyatta come in. I think this phantom could do with a healthy dose of interpersonal connection and spirit healing.” He smirked as he saw Reaper’s haunches go up.

 _“I-I can see what they say. Do you think Genji would let Zenyatta near Reaper?”_ McCree could hear his obvious nervousness.

“Not in a million years.” McCree shrugged. “Have them come together.” He heard winston sigh. _  
_ _“I’ll see what I can do.”_

“Much obliged.” He closed communications. He grinned. “You ever heard of the Shambali?”

  
  


“Ugh! I can’t believe we’re stuck in a goddamn movie theater with two fuckin’ bots and no explosives!” Junkrat complained, throwing himself back onto Roadhog’s stomach. “We were in the big leagues! Now we’re being brushed aside like we’re nothin’!” He eyed the other two in the room. The fuckin’ omnic with the weird voice and the ninja-dude. Though they weren’t even concerned with him, too busy holdin’ hands and probably whispering sweet nonsense to eachother.

It made Junkrat feel _sick._ “Pay attention to me!” He cried. The omnic’s head turned.

“Are you ready to attempt to clear your soul of your prejudices and start down the road to serenity and inner peace?” He asked. Junkrat cringed.

“Fuck no- ain’t we supposed ta be interrogated? Where’s the torture? The single light in the dark room? Like in the films?” He grinned wildly, and turned to Roadhog. “Wouldn’t that be cool, mate?” He asked. Roadhog coughed, and Junkrat pouted. “What do you know anyway.” He crossed his arms. The omnic’s head tilted to the side- and Junkrat wanted nothing more than to blow the tinman to smithereens.

“You wish to watch a film?”

“I’LL KILL YOU!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for responding to my question- it means a lot and your responses were all so nice!!!  
> i'm going to try to keep updating at my normal speed- but I'm gonna hold off a little and maybe not post daily?? if thats okay??? but knowing me ill probably just do it anyway.  
> Thanks again!!! your support means soo much!!!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> feelings are difficult

Tracer stared resolutely at Widowmaker from above the fork full of fluffy cake she was holding out. Widowmaker was glaring, her golden eyes narrowed. Tracer moved the fork in a circle.

“Come on, Widow.” Tracer  pleaded. “Even elite assassins have to eat. Especially if they’ve skipped two meals.”

‘Oh, _mon petite carotte,_ I’ve gone weeks without eating before.”  Widowmaker chuckled. “Not eating for a few hour is child’s play.” She diverted. Tracer humphed and held the fork closer.   
“Eat. It.” She demanded.

“No.” Widowmaker denied.

Tracer flashed her infamous puppy-eyes, and felt immense personal victory when she saw Widowmaker’s expression waver. Deciding to go the extra mile, Tracer added in a pout, pushing her lower lip out. She batted her eyelashes.

“Please, love?” She begged. Widowmaker scoffed and finally, _finally,_ leant forward. She maintained eye contact with Tracer as she slowly put her mouth around the fork, the slid the cake off. Tracer blushed and looked away. _That’s not fair…_ She thought, feeling smugness radiating from Widowmaker. Tracer set the rest of the cake on Widowmaker’s lap, standing up and walking over to the other side of the room. “I bought you new clothes.” She said, locating the bag she was searching for. It was a nice shiny purple color. Tracer grinned as she held it up. Widowmaker looked confused, Tracer blinked back over to her and sat down. She started to get excited. “I figured that you wouldn’t want to stay in that bodysuit while you’re here- so I figured I’d grab some other clothes for you.” She explained, as she placed her hand into the bag, rummaging around. “I got clothes for the rest of the team, too!” She beamed at Widowmaker, whose expression didn’t change for it’s wide-eyed, mouth slightly agape look.  Tracer exclaimed as she found what she was looking for.

She pulled out a cream colored turtleneck sweater. It was a nice cable-knit, but not too expensive. “I didn’t know your size, so I guessed. Medium?”

Tracer grinned at Widowmaker expectantly.

“Why-” Widowmaker began, but her voice cracked. Tracer felt her heart break a little. “Why are you doing this?” She asked, her voice sounding broken.

“D-doing what?” Tracer asked, slightly panicked, dropping the sweater and holding her palms up.

“You’re not interrogating me, you took me into your own room, you’re feeding me _cake,_ you bought me new clothes!” Widowmaker shouted, standing up. She pointed at the desk on the far side of the room, where Tracer’s pistols were laying. “You’re not even armed!” Her hand was shaking. Tracer watched as Widowmaker’s face became… pink? “You’re supposed to be getting information! How do you think you’ll defeat Talon with no information!” Widowmaker stopped, and her breathing was heavy. Tracer stood up, and placed an arm around her shoulders.

“Sit down love.” She said gently. Widowmaker fell onto her cot. Tracer sat back in her chair, and took Widowmaker's hand. “I’m not trying to get information about Talon from you.”

“Then what are y-”  
“I’m _trying_ to convince you to leave Talon.” Tracer clarified. And Widowmaker froze.Tracer let go of her hand, giving it a pat, before picking up the sweater. “Medium’s okay then?”   
The assassin nodded. Tracer smiled. “Aces! I also got you these pants, too.” Tracer added, pulling out a pair of black jeans. “They’re a few other things in here too.” She offered the bag to Widowmaker, who took it wordlessly.  Tracer blinked to her cot and flopped onto it. Silence fell over the room. The Widowmaker broke it.

“I’m not leaving Talon.”  
_We’ll see about that._

“Whatever you say, love.”

  


“Do you know how many of your kind I’ve massacred?” Reaper asked, his voice rumbling and dangerous. Zenyatta folded his hands under his chin.

“I’m afraid not. Do you?” The monk inquired. Reaper’s hands curled into fists, tearing holes in the cot between his thighs where his hands were pressed . _Will I have to replace that?_ Zenyatta thought idly.

“Too many to count.” He answered.

“Then you do not know the answer either. It’s the ignorance that we harbor that damages others and ourself. Your disregard for other life is undoubtedly one of the catalysts that lead to your current predicament.” Zenyatta said calmly.

Reaper sighed. “I don’t need this.” He said. Zenyatta shook his head.

“I believe you do. Now- you can’t start down the path to healing without wanting too.” He continued.

“Then we’re done here.” Reaper said pointedly. Genji sighed, and Zenyatta turned around.

“Is something wrong, Genji?” Zenyatta asked, concerned.

“Was I this frustrating?” The cyborg remarked, his head in his hands. Zenyatta laughed.

“Oh dearest Genji- you were _extremely_ difficult to convince- but never frustrating.” Zenyatta assured. He hoped that his fondness was expressed adequately.

Though Zenyatta doubted that anything could truly convey the depth of his fondness for Genji.

 _The ocean, perhaps._ He mused.

Reaper threw his head back, smacking it against the wall. “If you two are done being disgusting-”

“Does the concept of a healthy relationship bother you, Reaper?” Zenyatta cut him off. “Perhaps the unhealed scars of you past are what are causing your lack of empathy.”

“ _Be. Quiet.”_

“You do not have to live in self-imposed isolation. Jesse McCree has shown unique interest in your well-being, so if you were to start anywhere-”

Ah.

Reaper lunged forward, darkness and discord poured off of him in torrents. His hands were in cuffs, and Zenyatta was agile enough to avoid anything he could do with his legs- so really he wasn’t worried. Though if the familiar sound of metal sliding on metal was anything to go by- Genji was. Zenyatta held up his hand.

“Peace, both of you.” He soothed. Reaper chuckled.

“Peace? I can never know peace. I am a husk of a man- eternally tortured by my hideous condition, cast out by my former peers and doomed to walk the path of destruction, seeking revenge on those who wronged me. I am-”

As Reaper ranted, Zenyatta looked at Genji.

“Does this sound familiar, Genji?”

The cyborg shook his head. “Hauntingly so, Master.”  
“-My heart no longer beats, I am a _dead man walking.”_ Reaper finished, his chest heaving.

“No man is dead until the last memory of them has gone. And no man is beyond hope of redemption. If you would simply meditate on that thought- perhaps a new path would be revealed to you.”

“I walk the path of destruction.” Reaper said. Zenyatta waved his hand, and one of his orbs flew onto his fingertips. He held it so that Reaper could see as it was surrounded by dark energy.

“Then you are your own worst enemy.” Zenyatta demonstrated, flicking his orb to Reaper. It hovered over him, and Zenyatta felt a twinge of guilt as he saw Reaper recoil. “What you may think is your greatest strength, could be your greatest weakness. Does this… loneliness that you shroud yourself within suffocate you?”

Reaper looked away. “I’m not going to take life advice from a robot. You’re just an amalgam of codes and synthetic emotions.”

Inwardly, Zenyatta flinched. Though outwardly, he remained serene. After a few years, the blade of some statements become dulled. But a blade is a blade all the same.

Zenyatta held out his hand, and the orb returned to his palm. He channeled his positive, tranquil energy into it, then sent it to Reappear once more.

“Open your mind, Gabriel Reyes, and you’ll find truths you flee from to be revelations.”

“...What does that mean?” Reaper growled. Zenyatta tapped the side of his head with his index finger.

“Look inside yourself for the answer.”

“No.”

Genji groaned.   

  
  


Lucio reclined on the ground next to his cot, his turntables beside him, and his datapads discarded next to it. He had just finished composing a new song for his album, and was now just… kicking back.

Hey, he deserved it after all he’d been through this week.

He held his phone in one hand, and the other was cushioning his head. He had decided to let his hair down because _hey,_  it gets kind of uncomfortable being up all the time.

He was idly tapping away, updating social media, posting a selfie on instagram. Sending a few messages to his mom.

He wasn’t holding his breath, his mom was asleep. Lucio smiled. He _did_ miss her alot.

Though he did get a message from someone else.

 _[Lucio! My young friend, how are you?]_ Lucio smiled, always happy to hear from Reinhardt.

**_[I’m great. How’ve you been?]_ **

_[Just fine. Bridgette has been talking about D.Va again. I’m starting to regret telling her about her.]_

**_[Hey now, don’t be like that. D.Va’s awesome!]_ **

_[I know- I just wish I could get her an autograph so that she quiets down.]_

**_[Bridgette isn’t the only one who wants an autograph! I’d love to meet D.Va.]_ **

_[You and me both! But you’re young, famous! I bet D.Va would like to meet you as well.]_

**_[Aw, don’t sell yourself short, man.]_ **

_[Short? Never!]_

Lucio burst out laughing, then he noticed the time. “Damn!” He exclaimed, hopping up. Quickly, he typed out a message.

**_[Gotta take watch, ttyl!]_ **

He set his phone down on his turntables, before zipping off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (honey u got a big storm comin  
> ',:3c


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you can't just forget about important things
> 
> like handcuffs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *holds up pom poms*   
> I love how people have begun to hold up pom poms with me yes lets form a cheer leading squad  
> A L S O!   
> I'm attending some leadership training for the next two days!! So my ability to update may or may not be inhibited by it, but I'll try my best!!!

Before he had entered Reaper's makeshift cell, Jack Morrison was warned not to reveal his identity. When he had asked Jesse why it had mattered, the cowboy had shaken his head and said ‘Trust me on this, Jack.’ While Jack thought that he was being unreasonable- he had agreed and put on his mask. Jesse seemed convinced that Reaper was Gabriel Reyes. Jack shook his head.  _ It’s team to clear this up- once and for all,  _ he thought, pushing open the door to the room. 

Genji hopped up, and Jack raised an eyebrow. He seemed awfully eager to leave. Zenyatta retrieved his orb back from where it hung over their prisoner. The omnic tilted head, which Jack figured might be his equivalent of a smile. 

“I’ve come to relieve you of your duty.” He informed gruffly. Zenyatta nodded, then addressed Reaper. 

“Meditate on it.” He said. Reaper didn’t respond. Zenyatta floated over to Jack, patted his arm then left through the door. Genji followed quickly, think a quiet ‘thank you.’ The door shut, and Jack immediately strode over to the prisoner. Reaper popped his neck.

“What’s the infamous Soldier 76 doing with Overwatch?” Reaper asked. Jack sneered and took two steps forward, his footsteps heavy. 

“Listen. I’ll be asking questions, and you’ll be giving answers. For some reason my team has been insistent on not hurting you, but  _ I’m not them. _ ” He said, leaning in closer. “What’s Talon’s endgame?” He asked. Reaper didn’t move an inch. Jack executed a  quick, yet strong, punch to Reaper’s stomach.causing him to double over. The hardness of the chest armor hurt, sure, but it was far from the worst he’s ever felt. While Reaper was bent, Jack grabbed the back of his hood and pulled his head down. Jack immediately slammed his knee into the front of Reaper’s mask, then threw him to the floor. Jack _ would _ have felt guilty as he watched Reaper try to push himself up using his cuffed hands, if it were anyone else. He slammed his boot on Reaper’s back, keeping him pinned. “Talk.” He threatened. 

No response. Jack grit his teeth and pressed down harder. But instead of wincing in pain, Reaper began to laugh, loudly, crazily. There was a strange crackle of electricity, and Reaper’s shoulders rolled back. “What’re you laughing at?” 

Reaper’s head snapped to the side, and his body began to dissolve, his clothes becoming shrouded in an almost unreal darkness, lined with red smoke. Jack’s boot suddenly fell through air, hitting the ground. Reaper had vanished.

Jack immediately readied his Heavy Pulse Rifle, feeling slightly reassured by its familiar weight. He glanced at the ground, and saw Winston’s handcuffs broken and discarded. Feeling panicked, Jack activated his comm.

“We’ve got an emergency. Reaper has escaped his cuffs.” 

_ “What-?! _

_ “Commander!”  _

_ “Jack-”  _

Morrison shut the channel off, needing to focus. He heard an echoing laugh. 

“Scientist or not- he’s still a monkey.” Reaper mocked, materializing in a cloud of black smoke in front of Jack. _ He’s still unarmed _ , Jack noticed, relived. He fired his weapon, and Reaper leapt into the air, floating, and maneuvered out of harm’s way. Jack cursed as he ran out of ammunition. 

Before he could reload, Reaper suddenly appeared behind him and threw his arm around his neck, effectively trapping him in a chokehold. Jack clawed at the armored forearms that had trapped him. “Sorry we didn’t get to know eachother better, _ Soldier _ , but I’ve got places to be.” Jack took in a deep breath as Reaper’s arms tightened.

_ I am not going down like this. _

He rammed his elbow into Reaper, but it only served to knock the breath out of his captor.

The door burst open, and Jack had never been so relieved to see an omnic in his life. Zenyatta quickly threw a black orb at Reaper, then hit him with another. His weakened his hold, and Jack slipped out. Zenyatta gave him a white orb, and Jack felt calm energy flow into his body, and his breathing returned to normal. 

“I’m relieved you’re okay, Jack Morrison.” Zenyatta said.

“I’m glad you made it in time, Soldier.” Jack responded, loading his gun. He aimed it at reaper, who had gone shock-still. He resumed still for ten seconds, before his head snapped up

Jack felt chills run down his spine as a red glow began to emanate from the dark eyeholes that were cut into Reaper’s mask. Jack took a step back, putting his arm out in front of Zenyatta. 

Genji zipped behind them both, his shurikens at the ready between his fingers. Jack glanced to and away from him quickly, rapidly becoming more concerned with Reaper. 

Reaper took a few steps forward, and Jack fired a arming shot to the left of Reaper’s head. The mercenary kept walking, unphased. 

“Stop now, Reaper.’” Jack warned. Reaper’s head quickly looked to him. 

“I don’t answer to you anymore,  _ Commander Morrison. _ ” Reaper said. Jack shook his head, confused. 

“What  _ are _ you talking about?” He took a step forward. “Who  _ are _ you?”

“Haven’t figured it out yet, John?” Reaper asked. Jack felt a bead of sweat roll down his back. There was only one person who has  _ ever  _ called him John outside of his family.

“Gabriel Reyes.” He said, dumbfounded. “Jesse wasn’t lying.” 

“No.” All at once, Reaper was in front of him. “ _ He wasn’t. _ ” Jack felt rage blossom in his chest. He bashed Reaper on the head with his gun. 

“You almost killed me!” Jack yelled, feeling white-hot fury tingling down into his fingertips. Raper raised his left hand and brought it down in an arc. His clawed fingers spied through the air, scratching Zenyatta’s faceplace with a ear-grating hiss, before grabbing Jack’s throat and hurling him into the floor. Jack’s rifle fell next to him, it’s lights flickering off. Broken.

“I won’t fail again.” Reaper promised.  Jack almost immediately sprang back up and Genji jumped forward, his dagger in hand.Reaper vanished once again. 

Jack sprinted out into the hall. Reaper was nowhere to be seen, but Jack was certain he hadn’t left. He heard gunshots coming from Tracer’s room. Filled with dread, the threw open the door and rushed inside, though he stopped when he saw the scene unfolding. 

Widowmaker was standing in front of Tracer’s cot, wearing a sweater,  while Traer herself was scrambling to  get to the one gun on her desk. The other gun was in Widowmaker’s hands, but it wasn’t pointed at Tracer. 

The gun was pointed at Reaper, who was standing with his hands up.

“Put that down, Widowmaker. This is treachery,” Reaper said. Widowmaker shook her head. Tracer finally reached the other pistol, and pointed it at Reaper as well. “I see. I’m sure Talon will take to this just  _ fine. _ ” Reaper snarled, then vanished. Tracer turned to look at Widowmaker, her eyes wide. Widowmaker handed Tracer her gun back, wordlessly.  Jack ran out of the room. 

Morrison ran down the hallway, when he was stopped in his tracks by a loud explosion.

  
  
  


Junkrat hit his head against the wall repeatedly. The big monkey and the brazilian were trying to get him to talk. 

“Come on, just tell us why you’re working for them what they’re planning!” The green guy pleaded. 

“I. Don’t. Know.” Junkrat said, punctuating each word with a thump of his head. “They just keep us outta the public eye, and we blow shit up for ‘em.” 

“Have you noticed a pattern? Anything in common with what you've been sent to attack?”

“It ain’t my  _ job  _ to notice!” Junkrat groused. The monkey sighed. 

“What about you?” He asked, looking at Roadhog. Juknrat prickled. 

“Hey! He’s mine.” Junkrat protested. 

The man in green snickered. “‘Yours?’” He asked.

“Mine.”

Their captors looked at each other. The man shrugged. Junkrat huffed and crossed his arms. Though something caught his eye. 

Reaper appeared behind them, and Junkrat’s jaw fell open. He reached over blindly to get Roadhog’s attention, ending up smacking the older man’s arm.  Reaper held a finger up to his mask. He dropped his hand then raised both of them, each one holding syringe filled with purple liquid. Their captors looked befuddled, and went to turn, but Reaper stuck them in the neck. Thier eyes rolled and they collapsed. Reaper chuckled, then dropped a black sack onto the ground. 

Junkrat hopped up and fell onto the bag. He laughed insanely when he found his explosives. He kept laughing as he attached his mines to his belt. “Hey mate, get ready!” He said, giddy, as he attached a mine to the door. He ran behind Roadhog, and activated it. 

The door exploded with a  _ glorious  _ sound, bright colors splashing everywhere, an rubble falling from the sky. “Perfect!” Junkrat said, giddy. He ran out, Roadhog behind him. Roadhug grunted.

“Well yes, I could’ve used the door, but where’s the fun in that?” They quickly walked down the hall. “We’re out! Thanks a million, cobber!” Junkrat yelled, addressing Reaper while  launching one explosive after another. He turned to Roadhog who was laughing loudly.  “Say Spooks, I know that we’re after the handsome one, buuut do you think I could maybe take care of that bot?”

“Please.” Reaper said, nodding in consent. Junkrat whooped. 

He made sure his riptire was secure on his back, before heading out of the demolished theater. They made it into the common area, but were stopped by Jesse McCree himself.

“I don’t even have to trap him this time!” Junkrat exclaimed joyously. McCree rolled his eyes. 

“Just drop your weapon, kid.” He said. Junkrat giggled. How funny! But ooh, look at  _ that! _

Good ‘ol Spooks was creeping up behind McCree. McCree’s face faltered. “What’re you gigglin’ abou- uhg!” Reaper stuck the syringe filled with sedative into their prey’s neck. Jesse fell to the ground,out. 

“Boy does that stuff take ‘em out!” He whistled. He leant down to pick up the now fallen cowboy hat, but Reaper stepped on his wrist. Junkrat cursed in pain and glared up at Reaper. “Oi, what’s your problem?” He asked, angrily. Roadhog laughed. 

“Hands to yourself.” Reaper said. Junkrat pouted.  _ Not this again.  _ He lamented. Reaper leant down and scooped up McCree. Junkrat’s laughter came anew.

“Aww, lookit Hog, it looks like they just got married!” He snorted, pointing. Reaper scoffed. 

“Either kill the Omnic or don’t. I’m leaving. Meet me at the first checkpoint  in ten minutes.” Reaper informed, sinking into the ground. Junkrat shivered. 

“What a creep.” He looked around the room. The big monkey and the music man were all passed out in the ruined theater, thanks to the sedative. Widowmaker knew how to make a poison, that was evident. “How long’re they gonna be out?”

“12 hours.” Roadhog answered.  Junkrat whistled appreciatively. He stilled as he heard footsteps down the hallway. Junkrat couldn’t tell if it was the omnic, his hearing was balls. 

“If it’s the bot- I got dibs.” Junkrat whispered. Roadhog nodded.  They listened. 

It was the old guy who came out. Junkrat frowned. He turned to Roadhog and mouthed ‘let’s go.’ Roadhog shrugged. Realization dawned on Junkrat.  _ Wasn’t Spook’s original goal to get rid of all of the old Overwatch agents? He had his guns, didn’t he? Why’re they still kickin’?  _

The old guy glanced around, then spotted Junkrat and Roadhog. The old man whistled and Junkrat suddenly felt like he needed to get out. 

Then he saw the bot round the corner.  _ Mayeb I could spare a couple moments, eh? _

And like a reflex, he launched a grenade right into the Omnic’s chest. He barely had time to think  _ bullseye  _ before the grenade exploded. 

“That oughta take care of ‘em!” Roadhog picked up Junkrat like a sack of flour. And threw him over his shoulders, one leg on either side of his neck, then hauled him out. Junkrat’s eyes were closed tightly was kicking his legs wildly.   _ That’ll show them! Bot’s dad- that’ll show ‘em! _

Then Junkrat heard an the angriest, scariest yell he’d heard in his entire life. 

“ _ Ryūjin no ken wo kurae!”  _

Junkrat barely had time to open his eyes and see a flash of green and sliver before he felt a strange sensation in his arm. It was warm, and it was wet. 

Wait.

Junkrat’s felt this feeling before. 

He weakly turned his head away from the blur, before looking down at his arm. 

_ Ahahaha! _ What was  _ left  _ of his arm. 

He saw blood pouring out of the stump of his left arm. The entirety of the forearm severed and laying on the ground. He saw the large slash in Roadhog’s back, and their blood mingling together in a disgusting pool on the carpeted ground. He laughed weakly, then passed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :3c


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a few people get carried

Genji raised his katana, the energy of the south dragons coursing through his veins and out through his fingertips, engulfing his blade in it's power. It wasn't often he called upon the sacred power of his family, but his unbridled rage had blinded his sense of responsibility. He felt one sole desire- _protect Zenyatta._

He had already removed the Australian's only organic arm, and in doing so created a deep cut in the larger one's back. _But it wasn't enough._ Genji readied himself for one last strike, one precise blow that would end the lives of the large prisoner. As he began to leap forward, he was tackled to the ground, landing in a puddle of disgusting blood. He rapidly felt the energy of the dragon leaving his body, and cursed loudly. He flipped himself over, pinning whoever had tackled him to the ground, lining up his sword to their neck.

Commander Morrison looked back at him, his forehead creased.

“Put the sword down, Shimada.” Morrison commanded. Genji felt realization set in, and he threw his weapon to the side, and quickly got off the ground. Still stunned at his own actions, he made to help his commander up, but remembered something far more pressing.

 _Zenyatta._ He thought, all other thoughts fleeing. He turned, and sprinted to his master's side in a matter of moments. He noticed Morrison's healing field engulfing the area. In the middle, Zenyatta lay, immobile. Genji felt a cold feeling fill his lungs, one that he last felt before Hanzo had nearly taken his lie. He fell to his knees, and gently moved Zenyatta's head into his lap, cradling it in his hands.

He took in a shaking breath, shoulder's jumping. He held back any tears that threatened to fall, as he watched the scattered and mutilated parts of his master's fragile body knit back together slowly. He heard footsteps and a gasp, but didn't tear his eyes away.

There was a loud _snap_ as Zenyatta's middle reattached and straightened itself. Genji choked out a sob, feeling a stinging sorrow replace his coldness. He couldn't hold himself back any longer, and tears began to pour from his eyes, fogging the inside of his mask. He could feel his vents opening and letting steam out. He drew him in closer, and sobbed once more when his head lolled to the side. Not even in sleep was Zenyatta this movable. His hands tightened slightly, watching the lights on his master as they flickered weakly on and off. Though he let the smallest glimmer of hope blossom in his chest as he saw the scratches that Reaper ha left on his shining face plate dissipate.

The sounds of a discussion were washed out by his vents opening once again.

Zenyatta's hand twitched, and Genji's glimmer of hope exploded, making his hands flatten on the sides of Zenyatta's head. He bent down more, gasping silently as the lights on Zenyatta's head lit up, that beautiful , _beautiful_ blue that Genji had come to love. Zenyatta's orbs also regained their illumination, gravitating from where they had been scattered to back around Zenyatta's neck.

“Genji?” Came Zenyatta's brilliant voice.

Genji broke into a huge grin behind his mask, beyond relieved, beyond overjoyed, beyond _ecstatic,_ that he heard that voice again. Zenyatta's hand came up to Genji's face plate, like it has often. “I was completely serious when I said you should take your mask off more often.

And without sparing a thought, Genji practically ripped his mask off and threw it to the ground. He leant forward, pressing their foreheads together. Tears cascaded from his eyes, dripping down onto his teacher.

“Master, I- I thought you were _gone,_ I t-thought- _anata ga shinda to omotta_ , _anata ga shinda to omotta_ , _anata wa watashi o nokosu koto wa dekimasen,_ _koishiteru, koishiteru._ ” Genji said, shaking his head then pressing his forehead down firmer onto Zenyatta's.

“I don't speak Japanese, Genji.” Zenyatta reminded. Genji laughed, slightly watery. He didn't care. In this moment he didn't care about anything other than that Zenyatta was okay.

The healing field blinked off, and Zenyatta ran his hand gently down the side of Genji's face. Genji lent into the touch, savoring the way the gentle fingers ran themselves across his scarred face with tenderness and with no hint of revulsion.

Zenyatta's hand slowly retreated from his face, and Genji wanted desperately to bring it back. Though it was clear his master wanted to get off the ground. Zenyatta brace his arms on the ground and attempted to rise, but he simply fell back. “Oh no.” He commented. Genji quickly became panicked.

“What is it, Master?” He asked. Zenyatta gestured to the lower half of his body.

“It appears I've lost the ability to control my lower body.” He stated, simply. Genji immediately felt his anger flare up again, but managed to contain it knowing that Zenyatta was okay. Genji put his mask back on and stood up, and pulled Zenyatta into his arms. Zenyatta laughed seeing his legs dangle uselessly.

“Genji? You're covered in blood.” Zenyatta pointed out. Genji cringed. What would Zenyatta think of Genji if he knew what he had done. For an instant, he considered not telling him, just taking him to safety and not letting him know what he had done to his assailants.

Though Zenyatta deserved the truth.

Genji turned around, so that Zenyatta could see. Zenyatta's systems sped up for a second and his lights flashed, the omnic equivalent of a gasp. Genji cringed. Morrison had picked the criminal Junkrat up out of the pool of blood, and placed him and his companion, Roadhog, into a healing field. Roadhog was also inhaling something from a yellow container that seemed to be quickening the healing process. Their bloodied weapons were being held by a panicked-looking Tracer. Winston and Lucio were lying unconscious next to each other.

“Oh my.” Zenyatta remarked. He looked to Genji. “I take it this is your doing?” It wasn't an accusation, but Genji felt guilty nonetheless.

“Yes...” Genji admitted with a lowered head. Zenyatta looked up at him.

“Why?” He asked. Genji felt immensely foolish.

“They... nearly killed you. I understand you must feel disappointed in me, Master.” Genji said, his remorse sincere.

“Revenge is an all-consuming force, Genji.” Zenyatta reprimanded.

“I know, Master...” Genji sighed. Zenyatta patted his head.

“I know you do, dear Genji.” He said. His tone was sweeter, and it was like music to Genji's ears. He walked, Zenyatta still safely in his arms, over to Tracer, who looked extremely relieved to see them. Though Genji suspected it was more so Zenyatta than himself.

“You're alright!” She exclaimed. Zenyatta nodded.

“For the most part.” He agreed. “I can't feel my legs.” Tracer gasped. She looked down to her arms full of weapons.

“Be right back!” She said, before blinking away. She came running back quickly, her arms empty-though she looked panicked. “Where's Reaper? Where's _Jesse?_ ” She asked, her voice loud. Genji looked to Morrison.

“They weren't in the theater with these two.” He informed. Genji picked up on the note of concern in Morrison's voice.

“Jesse wasn't in his room, Widow hasn't heard any gunfire...” Tracer listed, her voice getting quicker and more unstable the more she spoke. Genji felt the realization dawn on him.

“Reaper succeed.” He said bluntly. Tracer's face became paler, and Morrison punched the wall nearest to him, his hand over his visor. Zenyatta's orbs wavered in the air slightly. Footsteps came from the hallway, and everyone turned to see Widowmaker, in a sweater, stroll into the room.

“ _Faucheur_ has taken his prey to the first checkpoint, where he will wait for _Souris_ and his pet.” She explained, gesturing to Roadhog and Junkrat. “If they fail to show up, he will continue onto the second checkpoint, the third, and so on.”

Jack Morrison growled. “How do we know we can trust you?” Widowmaker glanced towards Tracer, then back to Jack.

“You don't. But if you choose to stand idly by, you can bid Monsieur McCree _adieu._ ” She confessed. Tracer went and stood next to Widowmaker. Genji was slightly taken aback.

“I think we should trust her.” Tracer said boldly, puffing her chest out. “After all, she did stand up for me against Reaper in the first place. We can go to the checkpoints and see if we can get Jesse back before Reaper gets him to Talon.”

Genji looked down at Zenyatta, then to Winston and Lucio. He avoided looking at the unconscious criminals.

“What do we do about those who are unable to accompany us?” He inquired. Widowmaker shrugged.

“If we wait twelve hours, the sedative on them will wear off. Presumably, it will wear off on Jesse McCree as well. We can go then, it takes at least three days to make the journey back to headquarters, even with _Faucheur’s_ unique abilities.”

Morrison tensed up, but he nodded stiffly. “Fine. But if Jesse gets killed by Reaper _or_ Talon, I'll have your head.”

Widowmaker raised an eyebrow. “Agreed.” '

Genji looked between them, amused yet concerned at the exchange he just witnessed, though his thoughts were mostly on Jesse and Zenyatta. He wondered what sort of despicable thing Reaper could be doing to his friend when his was defenseless.

 

 

* * *

  
  


Reaper hissed in irritation as the unrelenting torrent of rain continued. The useless wasteland scum were nowhere to been seen after ten minutes. So not only was Reaper's time wasted, now he was soaking wet. He looked down at the ingrate he held in his arms. The sedative was still in effect, so the rain wasn't really bothering the younger man. Even if it was, the cloak covering his body would keep most of the rain off of him.

Reaper trudged along, eyes narrowed staring moodily ahead. The water droplets falling onto his mask were severely impeding his vision. Typically, his hood would keep the water off of his mask.

Again, Reaper wondered what possessed him to give up his own cloak to protect the ingrate from the rain.

The second checkpoint wasn't far at all, an abandoned paper factory on the outskirts of Los Angeles. The journey would have been _much_ simpler if Jesse were dead. Apparently, living people don't take well to the shadow-step.

 

_Reaper emerged from the shadows a distance from the Overwatch base and began to run, feeling the typical buzz of his cells regenerating at an accelerated speed. It was the downside to his ability, it always hurt like a bitch. He stole a glance down to his trophy, and nearly tripped._

_Jesse's skin was white as a sheet, and his breathing shallow and ragged. For the first time in years, Reaper felt concern for a human being._

_It was terrifying._

_He held Jesse slightly closer to him, and picked up his pace. He would have to make up for the fact that he couldn't make use of his abilities. Above him, dark clouds rumbled angrily. A streak of bright lighting flashed across the sky, another roll of thunder. Then it began to pour down rain in a powerful deluge._

 

“This damned cowboy is more trouble than he's worth...” Reaper muttered to himself. Though bitterly he knew that wasn’t true. He looked ahead. He could see the silhouette of his destination through the sheets of rain in mist in front of him. He groaned, and sprinted, water droplets splashing against his mask and his body armor.

After making it to the back entrance of the factory, he kicked open the steel door that lead inside.

It was dusty, cold, dark, and musty. Reaper didn't really mind that kind of living condition, but his traitorous mind kept thinking about how it would affect Jesse's health.

He kicked a nearby box filled with spiders.

He walked further in, seeking the area with the least amount of filth and dilapidation. He found what he deemed to be the best a ways further in, near the center of the factory, where there were relatively few machines and corners. He took the cloak off of Jesse and threw it on the ground. He placed the cowboy down on it. Not gently, because Reaper didn't do gentle.

He just didn't to it harshly.

He sat down across from Jesse and found himself missing the conversation of his companion. He used to feel that longing frequently after Jesse had left Blackwatch. He would go down to the shooting range, and find himself longing for some friendly (or maybe not quite,) banter and competition. And when he was orchestrating his complete Overwatch disbandment operation, he would miss the snarky comments. He even found himself missing the times that Jesse would fall asleep against his shoulder and sleepily call him 'Gabe.'

But now they were the infamous Mercenary Reaper- terror to all, and vigilante Jesse McCree- dispenser of justice.

Which was... acceptable.

He stared at the resting face of his former apprentice, the lines and planes on his face so well-known, yet so different. Different scars, different facial hair. Reaper picked up the outlaw’s hat and observed it. Oddly enough, it was the one thing that hadn’t changed.  He looked back to Jesse and felt an odd feeling in his chest. He blocked it out.

_Acceptable._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they call me backstreet becauSE I'M BACK
> 
> leadership training was ... neat
> 
> also i apologize for the Japanese the only language i have begun to study is polish so google translate and various other websites have become my frienemies.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> reaper is honestly a lot gayer than he needs to be

Reaper was well into his journey to the fourth checkpoint, the light of the dawn serving as a warning that he had to pick up his pace. The fourth checkpoint was a house owned by a Talon officer. It was technically a base, though it hadn’t been used in years for anything more than a checkpoint. It had a communications hub Reaper could use to communicate with  Talon to inform them of Widowmaker’s betrayal, and the Junkers’ absence from the mission. 

And of course, how he had succeeded in his mission.

Speaking of, his mission was due to wake up in three hours. Which puts Reaper in the ideal position of being able to wait out the daylight while being able to be in a secure location when Jesse woke up. He was due to arrive in two hours, and Reaper was relieved at the lack of unpleasant weather that permitted him to wear his cloak. 

  
  


He arrived at the checkpoint at 5 o'clock sharp. The house was inconspicuous, and in the middle of a neighborhood that had been ravaged by the first omnic crisis. Many of the homes were crumbling and uninhabitable. Radiation and hazardous fuels spilled from the omnic soldiers coated the outsides and insides of many of the houses- but check point four was insulated and protected from the toxins thanks to Talon’s influence. Though when he stepped into the hazardous area, he pulled McCree’s serape over his mouth and nose.  He shoved his way into the house, using his shoulder to shove open the door. 

The inside was sleek, but dark. Much like Talon itself, Reaper noted. The walls were dark steel, and the floors the same. It was very… Interesting for a hideout. It had proper furnishings, furniture upholstered with black leather and high-tech communication systems. Reaper sighed in relief. 

He stiffened as McCree suddenly shifted in his arms. It was a small, almost unnoticeable. If Reaper wasn’t hyper-aware of his current situation, he wouldn’t have noticed it at all. He quickly put McCree down, and pulled out the immobility cord that had been used to bin him while he was  _ Jesse’s  _ prisoner. Reaper was filled with a wicked smugness at the turn of events. He couldn’t  _ wait  _ until Jesse woke up, and Reaper got to have  _ his  _ way with his prisoner.

Reaper felt his face warm up. 

He turned away from Jesse and walked over to the comm center. He activated it by typing in his mission code to activate communication with Talon. A messaging screen  popped up and he quickly typed in his status. He sent the message off quickly. He glanced around the room again, then walked over to a chair. He sat down in it and sighed.

_ “Does this… loneliness that you shroud yourself within suffocate you?”  _

Reaper shook his head, willing the omnic's voice to dissipate. He wasn’t a lonely person, he was content with isolation. Never before when he was roaming this broken world as Reaper had he had  _ any  _ desire to consort with anyone. 

Though Jesse McCree had alway been an exception. 

To everything. 

 

_ Gabriel stared at the young man that was lying in the medbay of the Blackwatch base.   _

_ The idiot had decided to go and play hero, by rescuing one of the hostages that had been left behind. Though doing so required him to run back into the smouldering base of operations they had just exited.  _

_ Gabriel had tried to stop him, dammit, he tried to stop him, but the brat just gave him that infuriating, cheeky, magnificent, grin and ran back inside.  _

_ It was key rule of Blackwatch that if someone fell behind, they were left behind. Though the thought made Gabriel feel more suffocated then the ash falling from the sky.  _

_ Gabriel  had more than half a mind to go in after him, but the more pressing issue of tending to the other hostages was more pressing.  _

_ He had made sure his men were taken care of, and the hostages secure, but his eyes kept darting to the crumbling building. Ten minutes passed, and Gabriel thanked whoever was above as he saw two silhouettes emerging from  the raging flames. Though his stomach plummeted when he saw that one of the figures, the one wearing the cowboy hat, was slumping and slightly asymmetrical.  _

_ Gabriel ran to them, not minding the heat from the flames licking his face.  _

_ “What happened, Jesse?” He asked, slightly panicked as he came up on them. Jesse tried to smile, but it looked more like a pained grimace. He pushed the rescued hostage ahead into Gabriel’s arms. Gabriel took the man he had rescued and quickly ran him back to the other Blackwatch operatives. He handed him off to Lewis, who responded with a nod. When he turned back to Jesse, the man was collapsed on the ground. Gabriel sprinted to his side. He knelt down next to him.  _

_ He reached out to grab the crook of Jesse’s elbow, but instead was met with a sickening emptiness and wetness. “Jesus, Jesse.” Gabriel whispered. Jesse laughed, rasping and breathily. _

_ “Just help me up, Gabe.”  _

_ Gabriel did, and Jesse fainted.  _

_ Which lead them to now, Gabriel watching as Angela tended to his apprentice's injuries.  _

_ “He’ll be okay, Gabriel. He only lost an arm, there’s no need to keep a constant vigil at his bedside.” The medic said, not looking up from where she was making a mark on his clipboard. “He needs a prosthetic. Torbjӧrn can have one made by tomorrow.”  _

_ Gabriel nodded, and kept his eyes on McCree. Would the metal arm impact his marksmanship? Would it drive him away? He wouldn’t leave him- Blackwatch- would he?  _

_ Angela, if sensing Gabriel’s distress sighed and walked over. She patted his cheek. “Don’t worry, Herr Grumpiness, this won’t change anything about dear Jesse. Just add a little bit of metal.” She chuckled. “It’s not like he’s going to be consumed by hatred over a little alteration.”  _

 

_ How ironic.   _ Reaper now thought, staring at the mask he held in his hands. During the time he was reminiscing, he had taken it off. Never before had he removed his mask while someone else was in the room. Even if that someone was unconscious. Though the sedative was due to wear off soon, so he won’t be out for much longer. In fact,  _ three, two, one… _

Reaper slapped his mask back on, and stood up just as his captive’s eyes popped open. McCree looked around quickly, obviously trying to determine where he was. Reaper smirked. 

“Nice of you to wake up, Jesse.” Reaper commented. Jesse’s head snapped to him, and Reaper noticed that his pupils were slightly blown up, making his brown eyes look bigger. 

“Reaper?” He asked, his voice rough and unsteady. 

“The one and only.” Reaper responded. Jesse’s shoulders moved forward slightly, but seemed  meet with a heavy gravitational force. The immobility cord. Jesse’s eyes narrowed. 

“You sick son of a bitch! Where are we-?!” Reaper felt sweet satisfaction seeing Jesse become so frustrated. He crossed over to him in one purposeful stride, and grasped his face in his clawed hand. He pulled him upwards. 

“I’ll be the one asking the questions now, Jesse.” He murmured, low enough so that Jesse could hear him, but silent enough to inspire fear. Though Jesse didn’t cower. He glared fiercely and bared his teeth. 

It was  _ thrilling.  _

Reaper ran his thumb beneath Jesse’s eye, the metal tips leaving a lighter trail on the darker skin where he touched. “ _ I _ didn’t kill anyone. Though if my cohorts did remains a mystery.” Reaper said. Jesse’s eyes became concerned. Reaper chuckled, and he grabbed Jesse’s chin roughly. “I’ll let you take care of them.” 

McCree scowled. “What makes you think I’d  _ ever  _ do anything like that?” Reaper felt his face break into a huge, maniacal grin. 

“Because you’re  _ mine  _ now.” Reaper said. Jesse’s eye twitched, and he turned his head quickly, causing one of his talons to cut the skin. A red line of blood appeared, and Reaper bit his tongue to prevent himself from licking his lips.

“I ain’t  _ yours _ , I ain’t  _ anyone’s. _ ”  The cowboy snapped.

“Oh Jesse,” Reaper laughed. “You’ve always been mine.”

 

* * *

  
  


 

Mei took another sip of champagne, a large smile on her face. Around her, renowned scientists and ecologists were dressed to the nines, mingling and talking. Mei had just had a particularly fascinating discussion with Doctor Gallegos about the affects that Australia’s disastrous climate and it’s affects on the ocean. Quite interesting. 

Though in the back of her mind she was worried. When she left her friends were harboring dangerous criminals, and she hadn’t heard from them recently. Tracer or Lucio would send her a text, a snapchat, or  _ something   _ updating her on their status on the hour. But she had yet to hear anything from either of them in about fifteen hours. 

sbe resisted the urge to check her phone. It would be rude to check it while she was attending the gala… So she made the decision to abscond to the bathroom and check her messages in there. 

She made her way across the polished floor, sill marveling at the towering bouquets that were in the center of every table atop pristine white table cloths. 

She was staring at the lovely displays, her hands clutching her sparkling white purse, when she bumped  into someone.

Oh, she  _ really  _ needed to stop doing that.

She stepped back, and looked at two of the most gorgeous women she had ever seen. 

One had shining blonde hair that was tied up into an elaborate bun, with shining rhinestones tucked into her locks. Her dress was pure white, and fell gracefully to the floor, cascading like waves. Her outfit was accented by gold jewelry. 

She was on the arm of a taller woman with smooth, dark skin. This woman’s black hair was sleek and straight, falling to her shoulders. She too was wearing gold jewelry, but she was wearing a royal blue gown, with a slit that ran up the slide, revealing one of her long legs. 

Of course, Mei instantly recognised one of them.  

“Doctor Ziegler!” Mei exclaimed. The golden-haired doctor smiled back at her.

“Hello, Mei.” She greeted. Her voice was as lilting and as light as always. “It’s wonderful to see you again.” 

“And you, Angela.” Mei said, beaming. “You look lovely, both of you!” Mei said. She looked bashfully at the taller woman, who was smiling gently back at her. “I’m afraid I don’t know who you are.” She said apologetically. 

“Ah, this is Fareeha Amari, my fiancée.” Angela introduced, looking at Fareeha with a look of pure adoration and love. It made Mei’s heart melt. Fareeha held out her hand, and Mei took it. She noticed a silver band on her ring finger, and Mei giggled. 

“Pleased to meet you, Miss Mei-Ling.” Fareeha said, her voice like caramel.

“And you, Miss Amari.” 

“So what’ve you been doing, Mei?” Angela asked. Mei laughed nervously. Then something struck her. Wouldn’t Angela have gotten the recall message?

By the look in Angela’s eyes, she had. Mei coughed.

“I’ve been… watching… over a few things.” Mei explained, hoping the doctor would pick up on her meaning. 

“Ah.” Angela looked to Fareeha, who nodded, then back to Mei. “If you don’t mind Mei, could we step outside and continue this discussion?”  

Mei nodded, and her grip on her purse tightened. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im not too happy with this chapter  
> but i adore all the of the support y'all have given me! i really do! seeing y'all liking my work is amazing and im so glad i can make something you enjoy!!
> 
> (and if any of y'all wanna ever wanna talk abt overwatch with me my tumblr is @acejoly and u can ask for my battle.net profile if you want)
> 
> *pom poms away*


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> don't worry, things will be fine

As soon as Junkrat woke up, he started to scream. 

Why?

B _ ecause half of his bloody arm was missing. _

He was scrambling back into Roadhog’s chest, holding his stump of a limb out in front of him. He’d already lost  _ one  _ of his goddamn arms to slavers in Australia, and now he’s lost the other to a goddamn ninja? Oooh, he was  _ mad.  _ And the damn ninja was just sitting there, while the bot they were  _ supposed _ to have blown to bits was cleaning blood off of him.  _ Junkrat and Roadhog’s blood. _

“Look at this, fucking-! Hog! The bloody bot is still alive, and I don’t- I don’t- have my  _ arm! My other arm!”  _ Junkrat wailed, furious. Roadhog growled, and slouched forward. 

“Calm down, Jamie.” He said. Junkrat tensed at the usage of his first name. “I won’t let them get away with this.” Roadhog added, a dark promise. Junkrat giggled. 

The ninja and the brit looked at each other, and the bot wrung out his blood-soaked rag. The old man was nowhere to be seen. 

“We don’t have any more immobility cord?” The brit asked, looking skeptically at Junkrat’s rope-bound legs. The ninja shook his head. 

“We used the last of it to tie up Roadhog.” He responded. “Reaper stole everything else.” The bot scrubbed a blood spot from the ninja’s face. 

“I hate this!” The girl exclaimed, her eyes looking watery. Junkrat laughed at her evident discomfort.  _ Serves her right.  _ He thought. “Reaper has Jesse, there’s a bomb on King’s Row, and we can’t send everyone after Reaper because we have to watch these two!” She lamented, gesturing to Junkrat and Roadhog. Junkrat blew her a kiss. She glared. 

“I will stay here and watch over them.” The bot said. Junkrat felt his eye twitch. “Seeing since as of now I posses no way of moving, it’s the wisest course of action.”

“Then I shall stay as well.” The ninja said. Roadhog coughed, and shook his head. 

“Damn right.” Junkrat murmured in agreement. 

“That may not be possible.” Junkrat turned his head and saw the monkey walk into the room, followed by… Widowmaker?

“Oi! Spiderwoman!” Junkrat called out to her. She didn’t acknowledge him. “What’cha doin’ fraternizing with the enemy?” Still no response. Junkrat had half a mind to take of his meal arm and throw it- wait. 

He couldn’t do that. 

He threw his head back and yelled in frustration. The monkey glowered at him. And cleared it’s throat. “As I was saying, Genji needs to accompany Tracer, Lucio and Widowmaker to go find Reaper and McCree. You’re quick, and we need to make good time.” He explained. “Which of course, leaves Zenyatta, Morrison and I here to watch over these troublesome criminals.”

The robo-ninja twitched forward. “I-” The monkey held up a hand. 

“During this time I can also work on fixing Zenyatta’s legs.” He added. The ninja glanced between the bot and the monkey, before leaning back and nodding. Junkrat wondered why he was so attached to the damn thing. 

Birds of a feather or something like that. He could relate, somewhat. He if his legs were broken, he wouldn’t want Hog leaving him alone. But the bot didn’t seem to have a problem with it, seeing how the bot just patted the ninja’s shoulder.

“When do we leave?” The ninja asked. Widowmaker stepped forward, and stood next to the brit.

“In an hour. Grab what you need. We need to go quickly.” She said. The brit nodded, then teleported away. Junkrat whistled. 

“D’ya think my treasure would let me do that?” He asked Roadhog… “Yeah, probably not.”

  
  


* * *

 

 

Mei followed Angela and Fareeha out onto the steps in front of the ballroom. There were sprawling gardens as far as the eye could see, and a massive crystal fountain with twisting, ornate designs. Mei thought it was breathtaking, being bathed in the golden light pouring from the ballroom’s windows. The party of three walked over to the fountain. 

“As you’ve probably guessed, I’ve also received the call.” Angela said, sitting prettily on the side of the fountain, with her hand still in Fareeha’s. Mei thought they looked like a painting. “And obviously I have yet to answer.” She smiled. 

“Why not?” Mei asked, moving to sit next to her. The crystal was cold, but Mei didn’t shiver. She’s been far colder. Angela looked to Pharah. 

“I don’t believe violence is the answer to any problem, you know this. But with the growing unrest and riots in the world, I feel like Overwatch being called back into action is the best procedure that could be taken.” Mei grinned,  _ of course it is! _ She thought.  _ Wait, if she thinks it’s the right course of action… _

“Then why didn’t you answer the call?” Mei asked, puzzled. Angela looked to Fareeha, who smiled at her. 

“I promised I wouldn’t go back unless Fareeha could come with me. She wanted to be an Overwatch agent before we were shut down.” Mei saw Fareeha run her thumb along Mercy’s hand. “I would come back if only she could come to.” 

Mei clasped her hands together and brought them to her face. “How wonderful!” She said, happily. Angela blushed, and Fareeha chuckled. 

“A couple that violates the Petras Act together stays together.” Fareeha said. Mei’s thoughts strayed to Genji and Zenyatta for a moment, before she gasped and pulled out her phone. No new messages.

“Oh, uh sorry! I haven’t heard anything from Overwatch in a few days.” Mei said apologised. “But! I’m absolutely sure that Fareeha will be welcome! We’ve actually recruited someone who wasn’t in Overwatch before already!” She held up her phone, displaying the picture she took with Lucio and Tracer. “Lucio! You know Lucio, don’t you?” 

Fareeha raised an eyebrow.  “The freedom fighter?” Mei nodded. 

“And the DJ!” She added. Angela chuckled. 

“Well, who else has shown up?” Angela inquired, leaning forward slightly. 

“Well, Winston initiated the Recall, Tracer was the second to show up, Jesse McCree showed up after that.” She listed. Angela’s smile turned warmer the more Mei talked about her old comrades. “We ran into Lucio in Numbani while we were trying to stop Talon from taking Doomfist’s gauntlet, for the second time. Genji and Zen-”

“Wait, Genji Shimada?” Angela asked, her eyes wide. Mei nodded. Angela shook her head. “That’s… Wonderful. How is Genji?” She asked. Mei giggled. 

“He’s doing fine. He keeps saying he’s found his inner peace with himself. And-” Mei leant in conspiratorially. “I think he’s in love.” She stage-whispered. Angela’s jaw didn’t drop, but her mouth fell open. 

“With whom?” She asked. 

“Zenyatta. He’s an omnic who’s been working with us. He used to be a member of the Shambali, but he left to help people in need. Genji calls him ‘master,’ So I think he’s the one who taught him how to be ‘one with himself.’” Mei said, her smile widening just thinking about them. “And I think Zenyatta feels the same way.”    
Angela blinked. “So… Genji has come to terms with his condition… and has fallen in love with an omnic?” Mei gave her a thumbs up, and she sighed. Fareeha laughed and rubbed her fiancée’s back. Mei was a about to bring up Commander Morrison, when she remembered that he was assumed dead. She’d wait on that one. 

“And when I left, we had just captured four Talon operatives.” Mei remembered. Fareeha’s face fell, and Angela stiffened. “And I haven’t heard anything from them since....” She looked down at her phone again. She was about to put it away, when it made a small chime. She felt a rush of excitement as she saw she had an incoming call. She opened it, and Tracer’s face popped up in a projected image. 

“Mei! Listen, we really need you back as soon as possible. Reaper has escaped with Jesse, Junkrat and Roadhog are still here, but Junkrat lost his other arm. Zenyatta can’t move, and Widowmaker is helping us find Reaper. Genji, Widowmaker, Lucio and I are heading out right now to tail him. Please come back soon love! Cheers!” Tracer ended  the call. 

Mei’s phone slipped out of her hand. She stared ahead blankly, trying to make sense of what she heard. Blurrily she saw Fareeha catch her phone before it fell into the fountain. Mei stood up. 

“I have to go.” She said quickly. Angela stood up after her, and put a hand on her arm. 

“Don’t go too quickly, Mei.” She soothed. Mei felt Fareeha’s hand on her back. 

“I have to go. Junkrat and Roadhog are dangerous, I don’t h-have to tell you that. And Zenyatta’s legs- and-!” She began to walk out through the gardens, quickly. She heard Angela call after her, but was stopped by Fareeha grabbing her arm. 

“Head out in the morning, Mei. Meet Angela and I here before you leave, we’ll come with you.” She said. Mei was about to shake her head. She was about to say that she had to leave immediately, but she just nodded. 

Angela and Fareeha would be bigger a bigger help to Overwatch than just Mei alone. Not to mention that fact they they were so insistent

“Alright. Thank you, Farehha.” Angela caught up, her heels making loud sounds as they hit the marble pathway.  Mei felt extremely grateful for both of them at this moment. 

 

* * *

  
  
  


_ McCree took in shuddering breaths as he stood pressed against the cold wall of the hall in the Blackwatch base. He felt like he was going to be sick.  _

_ Beside him, the sliding door to Gabriel’s room was open slightly, the white light from within cutting through the shadowed hallways like a knife. From the room, he could hear Gabriel’s voice talking in low tones.  _

_ “Overwatch is weak. Morrison is weak. In Blackwatch we are cast aside, left to do their dirty work in the shadows. What do we get from it? Nothing at all.” He said. There was a murmur of assent.  _

_ Jesse had finally gotten up the courage to tell Gabriel… Damn, he was 27, not 17. _

_ He was about to march in there and kiss Gabriel’s goddamn idiotic face, sick and tired of this stupid game they were playing but…  _

_ He never expected this. Never.  _

_ “If we want it gone, we need to take it out from the inside. It’s going to take time, and it’s going to take dedication. If anyone wants out, go now.”  _

_ McCree watched the door avidly, waiting-hoping for someone to walk out. When nobody did, he felt his feet turn into lead. This wasn’t right. _

_ What was Gabriel doing? _

_ And why wasn’t Jesse a part of it? _

_ Not that he wanted to be- God no- never. But still, wasn’t he Gabe’s apprentice? Jesse turned on his heel. Maybe their relationship wasn’t all he made it up to be. He promptly made his way back to his own room.  _

_ Once he got there, he began to shove his possessions into a duffle bag. His clothes, his belt buckles. Though halfway through it, he realized how stupid he was being. If this was really as severe as he thought, he should tell Jack.  _

_ But that would be betraying Gabriel. But in doing so he would be betraying Blackwatch, and Overwatch, who gave him a second chance. But as an extension, Gabriel also gave him a second chance.  _

_ Jesse threw himself onto the bed, burying his head into the one pillow he had. It smelled sterile, like everything in Blackwatch.  _

_ This place… Was so different from his home. Where everything was dirty, dusty, and old. Blackwatch- Overwatch- was new, elegant, and prominent. Jesse didn’t belong here, but where else did he belong?  He groaned into his pillow, and his door slid open.  _

_ Jesse looked up, and felt his heart jump. _

_ Gabriel walked in, looking completely composed, completely normal. Like he hadn’t just been discussing how to destroy his organization and his old friend. Unless he’s been planning this for a while, and it’s just… become the norm. And Jesse didn’t know. _

_ “Jesse, stop staring.” Gabriel snapped, but his words were hard from heated. Jesse looked away immediately. His face felt warm. Was it embarrassment or anger? He couldn’t tell. Gabriel sat next to him. “Jesse.” He said firmly. Jesse turned to him sharply.  _

_ “Wha-” Gabriel grabbed his chin and kissed him.  _

_ Jesse’s mind went blank for a split second. Isn’t this what he set out to do? Isn’t this what he wanted?  _

_ But what was supposed to be so sweet, just felt bitter. Even so, Jesse felt himself give in. Gabe brought a hand to the side of his head and deepened their kiss. After a few very, very, confusing moments, they pulled away from each other, both breathing heavy.  _

_ “I’m going to Switzerland.” Gabe said, his hand moving to the back of Jesse’s head. Jesse’s breathing had yet to steady when he asked, _

_ “When?” _

_ “Two days.”  _

_ “Huh.”  Gabriel looked slowly at McCree’s face, and Jesse felt his heart speed up. Gabriel ran his thumb along the side of Jesse’s face, and  Jesse shivered. Gabe stood up and looked down at him. _

_ “Sleep well, Jesse.” He said, before turning and leaving.  _

_ Jesse watched as his door closed, then he looked at his half-packed bag.  _

_ Jesse was leaving. He was leaving tonight.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *holds up pom poms*  
> this is probably my least favor it chapter ive ever written?? actual garbage
> 
> but can i just say that everyone who's left sweet comments on this are my favorite people like i cant  
> it makes my cry y'all are so sweet pls keep it up


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> drama

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *apologetically holds up pom-poms*   
> This chapter was supposed to be up last night but our wifi went out like neighborhood-wide.   
> Sorry!

Jesse knew that his situation was way beyond his control. He couldn’t move, he wouldn’t give away any information, and  _ right,  _ Reaper was the one who had him in captivity. It was a goddamn bitch of a situation, and no matter how hard he thought about it, he couldn’t figure a way out. 

He glared at the phantom, who was reclining in casual repose on a chair near to him. His damn mask still on his face, his damn gloves still on. Just… damn him in general. 

McCree shut his eyes and took in a deep breath.  _ How were things at HQ?  _  He wondered. Junkrat and Roadhog were out of their captivity, he knew that. But he had faith in his team, faith that they would be able to wrangle those outlaws and keep a tight watch on them. Though as selfish as it was, he also wished they would come and rescue him. 

He ain’t some damsel in distress, not some innocent southern belle who needs to be carried off on horseback, but a little bit of saving wouldn’t go amiss. 

“Stop staring.” Reaper demanded. Jesse was struck with a weird, sickening feeling of deja vu. He pushed it down. 

“I’ll stop staring when you take off that mask.” He countered. Reaper cackled. Jesse realized he hated that sound. It wasn’t like Gabriel’s laugh was, it was distorted and cruel. He shook his head. It had been ten years, he had to let go of any notion that Reaper was still anything like Reyes.

“ _ Te odio.”  _ McCree muttered, lowering his eyes and looking away sharply.

“ _ Silencio. _ ” Reaper snapped. McCree shouldn’t be surprised that Reaper still spoke in Spanish, but he was. Back in the days of Blackwatch they would have rapid-fire conversations in the language in front of their colleagues, and no one else would be able to understand. Hearing it come from Reaper… Well it was… weird. And McCree immediately regretted saying anything to him.  He wanted to turn around, to sit up. But he couldn’t.

“Could you take this off ‘a me?” McCree asked, grudgingly, gesturing with his head down to the cord that bound his body. “Extend me the same courtesy that we extended you.” He pushed. 

Really, Jesse wasn’t expecting anything but ‘no.’ So when Reaper actually stood up and walked over to him, Jesse was dumbfounded. 

_ Honestly,  _ he thought, as Reaper roughly pushed him onto his side and began to untie the knot of cord,   _ this guy needs to start being predictable, goddamn it.   _

The cord fell away, and McCre sat up. He stretched, and felt his back pop. He stretched his hands above his head, then let them fall to his side. “Thank ya kindly.” He said, not attempting to keep the venom out of his voice. 

“I just took you out of your restraints, but I have no problems with putting you back in them.” Reaper threatened, sitting back down. Jesse leant forward to study him.

“Why do you ever wear a mask?” He asked. 

Reaper didn't move to look at him when he responded. “You’d wear a mask too, if you were working for a Terrorist group.”

“Junkrat doesn’t.” McCree pointed out.  _ That  _ got Reaper’s attention. 

“Junkrat doesn’t have-” Reaper shook his head. “Forget it.” McCree wasn’t about to, this was  _ progress _ .

He pressed further. “Junkrat doesn’t have what?” Reaper didn’t answer. Jesse smirked. “Come on  _ Gabe,  _ everyone has scars. What makes yours so spec-”

All of the breath left him at once, as reaper lunged at him, wrapping one hand around his throat, pushing him off the couch and onto the wall. The metal was cold, and the slight rivets didn’t make for a pleasant sensation. 

Nither did the claws around his throat, drawing blood. Reaper loomed, exuding rage so that is was palpable. Jesse thought he smelled something burning.

“ _ Scars,  _ Jesse? If only it were _ just  _ scars.” McCree took in a shuddering breath, his arms bracing against the wall. He watched in trepidation as Reaper brought his free hand to his mask. 

Then ripped it off. 

It clattered to the ground, and McCree was truly, for the first time in his life, speechless. 

Beneath the mask was a face that very clearly, used to belong to Gabriel Reyes. But instead of the dark brown that jesse had grown accustomed too, it was watered down, paler. And only in some spots, as the patches of pale skin seemed to morph and change. One moment there would be a streak of paleness above his eyebrow, and then one would appear above his mutilated nose. 

His skin was scarred, heavily. The only relatively unscathed portion of his face was beneath his right eye. One considerably long scar ran from his temple to his lip. The scar tissue was pale and pinkish. He had an unkempt beard, and it was dark brown with small streaks of white. 

His eyes seemed, duller, grayish. His irises were two different colors, one a familiar shade of dark brown, and the other a shifting shade of maroon. 

If McCree wasn’t already fighting to breathe, he may have just stopped. Reaper gave him a snarling grin, and momentarily McCree forgot about the state of himself and was simply relieved he could see Gabriel’s- Reaper’s- face make a human expression. “Is this what you wanted to see?” He growled. Jesse’s non mechanical hand slipped from the wall, causing him to falter and fall slightly, making the claws on his neck dig in deeper. He winced, and Reaper eased off slightly. Reaper was breathing heavily, his teeth pressed together. 

Jesse brought his hand up to the side Reaper’s face. Reaper turned away from it. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He asked. His voice was more rough, less deep, when the mask wasn’t on. McCree quickly placed his hand onto the mutilated skin,  still in a somewhat numb state of disbelief. The skin beneath his hand seemed to… vibrate. 

“What…?” McCree asked dumbly. Reaper shook his head. 

“What happened to me? You’ve already asked that question.” Reaper pointed out, unkindly. 

McCree glared. “Well pardon me for being worried.” Reaper glared back, and without the mask, McCree got the full effect and felt himself shiver. 

“You’re a bit too late for worrying, Jesse.” Reaper hissed, before pausing. He looked at McCree, eyes focused, before smirking. 

“You’re scared.” He pointed out.  _ Now this I’ve dealt with before.  _ McCree noted. 

“In your dreams.” 

Reaper leant in, brought his hand to Jesse’s face, then pushed them together in a one-sided kiss. It was rough, bruising, slightly painful, but McCree was frozen, feeling nothing but confusion and a strange heat, until Reaper pulled away and let go of his grip on McCree’s neck. McCree fell to the couch. Reaper stopped down and fastened his mask back into place.

“ _ Frequently.”  _

Reaper sat back down. “We’re leaving for the fifth checkpoint in three hours.”

McCree didn’t move.

 

* * *

  
Their team of four was making their way to what Widowmaker called 'the fourth checkpoint,' meandering their way along a path by a thick forest. They were walking companionably, Lucio talking to Genji, Tracer and Widowmaker bickering. 

“Is that an omnic?” Tracer asked suddenly, causing the group to stop their onward trek. Lucio halted in his movements, looking out to where Tracer was pointing,bouncing on her toes. 

It  _ looked _ like an ominc, yeah. Though it was older,  and a lot clunkier than anything you’d see around today.Tracer blinked toward it, and Lucio held out his hand.

“Uh, Tracer? We have someplace to be!” He called after her, pointing to Genji and Widowmaker, the latter rolling her eyes, crossing her arms and tapping her foot.  _ Yeowch, she’s cold.  _ Lucio remarked. He turned back to Tracer who was now standing in front of the omnic. Lucio sighed and skated after her. 

“Hiya!” She said, waving at it. The omic turned around, it’s head moving curiously to the side. _ That’s adorable.  _ Lucio thought.  It had some plant matter stuck to it in a few places, and  _ oh my God is that a gun?  _ Lucio sprange back, noticing that one of it’ arms was as a _ gun,  _ and that it had another  _ huge gun  _ on it’s back. 

The omnic made a few light chirps and beeps, and it sounded confused. Lucio suddenly felt very guilty about being scared of it. Even if it was equipped with two guns and was massive. It had a _bird_ on it’s finger for crying out loud! Tracer circled it for a moment, before gasping. 

“Lucio! I think this ‘ol guy fought in the Omnic Crisis!” She exclaimed. Lucio frowned. 

“Say that again?”

Tracer appeared at his side and grabbed his arm. She dragged him over to the other side of the unit. “See?” She pointed at the red ‘E54’ that was painted on his chest. The omnic chirped again. “It’s a Bastion unit!” Lucio nodded. 

“That would explain the guns.” He agreed. 

“But what’s he doing all the way out here?” Tracer wondered, staring at the blue light on the Bastion’s head. 

Lucio shrugged. “I don’t think he’s hurting anyone, Lena.” He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “Besides, your girlfriend is getting antsy. We still have to fine McCree and Reaper, y’know.” Tracer frowned, and a sad look took over her face.

“Yeah, I know. I wouldn’t forget about that.” She muttered sadly, looking down. Lucio was reaching out to pat her on the back, when her head snapped up, her cheeks red. “And Widowmaker’s not my girlfriend!” She added hotly. Lucio laughed and pushed her toward the other two members of their search party. 

“Yeah, yeah.” He turned to the omnic, who was still looking at them. Lucio smiled widely and waved. “See ya, Bastion!” He said. The omnic tentatively waved back, and Lucio felt his heart burst. 

He began to skate away, when he heard loud, thumping footsteps behind him. 

He turned and saw the Bastion following him, the bird now perched on it’s head. It was beeping excitedly. Lucio laughed. “Hey now, what are you doing?” 

A series of beeps, accompanied by a pointed finger in Tracer’s direction. Lucio raised his eyebrows. 

“You want to… come with us?” He asked, slowly. It nodded, and the bird flew to it’s shoulder.  Lucio rubbed the back of his head. “I could ask, I guess…” He quickly went over to his group.

“Are you done talking to the robot?” Widowmaker asked, impatiently. Tracer swatted her on the arm.

“Be nice.” She admonished. Widowmaker rolled her eyes and looked away, but Lucio swore he saw a smile. He did  _ not  _ imagine it. 

He cleared his throat. “Yeah, about that. He… uh wants to come with us?”  He informed. Tracer perked up, but Widowmaker scowled. 

“ _ Non.” _

“Absolutely!” 

Tracer and Widowmaker glared at each other. Lucio snorted. He turned to Genji and held a hand in front of his mouth. 

“Lover’s spat.” He whispered. Genji chuckled, and Widowmaker and Tracer glared at him simultaneously.

“We’re not lovers!” They protested in unison. Lucio doubled over laughing. Widowmaker scoffed. 

“What do you think, Genji?” Tracer asked. 

“You two are most definitely lovers.” The cyborg responded. Lucio fell to his knees and wiped away a tear. 

“About the  _ ominc, imbécile.”  _ Widowmaker bit out. If Lucio’s eyes weren’t watering, and he could have told you her cheeks were pink. 

“Besides, the same could be said about you and Zenyatta, eh love?” Tracer teased. Lucio stood up and heard Genji’s vents open. 

“T-That’s different-” The cyborg began to stutter, but Widowmaker held up her hand. 

“ _ The. Omnic. _ Let us not forget that Monsieur McCree is in need of rescuing.” 

That sombred the atmosphere. 

“I have no problem with the Bastion unit accompanying us.” 

Lucio fist-pumped, and Widowmaker sighed. 

“Fine. But if he slows us down, we leave him behind.” She ordered. Lucio nodded, and turned to where Bastion was standing, looking at his bird. 

“Hey Bastion!” He yelled. The omnic looked up, his light flashing excitedly. Lucio waved him over. In a few bounds, he was next to him. Lucio patted his shoulder. “Let’s get going, bud.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bastion's so cute!  
>  I can't believe nothing else happened in this chapter


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> doldrums

Reaper didn’t know what came over him. One moment he was he was furious, filled with rage and contempt, and the next he was overcome with… another feeling. His mask was off, and for the first time in ten years he was close to someone, close to someone without any barriers. And it wasn’t just anyone, it was the someone who he lov-  _ loathed.  _

_ Loathed.  _

Reaper inwardly groaned, glancing over to where McCree was laying on the couch, his head hidden behind his cowboy hat. Out of humiliation? Fear? Embarrassment? 

Reaper wasn’t sure and he wasn’t going to ask. He looked at a the red LED display on a nearby clock. One hour until they could move on. Waiting for the inky cover of night was one of the hardest parts of his job. Patience was never one of his virtues. Looking back to McCree, he took in the details of the man’s rough gloves, the chipped and scuffed surface of his chest armor, and the nicks and scratches on his metal arm. 

The feeling in his chest was bubbling  up, like hot tar. It wasn’t rage. It was a horrendous mix of regret and fulfillment, like he couldn’t decide if he was happy about kissing Jesse. He leant back, opting to think of other things. 

Like how Jack Morrison was still alive, and how he  _ didn’t  _ kill him on the spot.

That got the white-hot anger spreading through his veins. Jack was supposed to be  _ dead.  _ But then again, so was he. 

He thought back to one of the most explosive encounters he had ever had with John, besides  _ the  _ explosion itself.  

  
  


_ Gabriel viciously stormed through the halls of the Blackwatch base. Last night he had told his subordinates about his plans to assault the Swiss base, and he had kissed Jesse McCree. And this morning that damn brat was gone. Vanished into the night, like a damn thief. _

_ Gabriel felt the sting of betrayal like a knife wound. Was it a coincidence that Jesse left the night that Gabriel kissed him? Or was it what caused him to leave in the first place? _

_ Gabriel shook his head. He knew Jesse, and he knew what Jesse felt for him.  _

_ He arrived at the corridor that connected the Overwatch and Blackwatch bases. He quickly made his way down it, right to Jack’s office. As much as he loathed to see the bastard, he needed to know if he knew anything about where Jesse went.  _

_ He entered the room with no warning, simply pushing open the sliding door and marching in. Jack was pacing the room, hand buried in his uncharacteristically unkempt blonde hair. He looked over at Gabriel when he entered.  _

_ He dropped his hand and walked over. “Gabriel! You have better tell me why Jesse came in here last night and said he was leaving Blackwatch.” Gabriel sneered at the familiar way Jack addressed his protege. _

_ “I was hoping you could tell me, Morrison.” Gabriel said. “He didn’t tell me anything. I came to see what was taking him so long to turn up to morning debrief, and found his room empty.  And I sure as hell didn’t give him an assignment.”   _

_ “Neither did I.” Jack bit, his eyes flashing. “What did you do to him?”  _

_ Gabriel clenched his fists to prevent himself from lashing out. “What did I  _ **_do_ ** _ to him? What makes you think I did anything?” He questioned, through gritted teeth. Jack scoffed and shook his head.  _

_ “It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve driven away a recruit. But this is the first time you’ve lost one with such promise. Jesse was the most skilled operative I’ve seen in years, and somehow…”  He gestured impatiently with his hands. Gabriel’s eye twitched. “You ruined it and made him leave.”  _

_ Gabriel snapped, and brought his fist up to Jack’s face. It made such a satisfying sound, and felt so very satisfying. Seeing Morrison stumble back was extremely satisfying. If Gabriel were anyone else, he would have been fearful of punishment, but this was far from the first time he had hit Jack while the other has his commanding officer.  _

_ “If you think that I would do anything,  _ **_anything_ ** _ , to make McCree leave Blackwatch, than you’ve gotten even stupider.” Gabriel accused. Jack looked at him, his face stormy and eyes clouded. He grabbed Gabriel’s shoulder and roughly turned him around. He shoved him through the door, then immediately slammed it. _

_ Gabriel started at the ground, tempted, oh so very tempted, to go back in there and end Morrison here and now.  _

_ But he took in a deep breath and walked back to Blackwatch. _

_ He would wait untill Switzerland _

  
  


He should have done it then and there. How simple would it have been to just kill him right there. He could have pounced, and choked him, watching the life leave his eyes firsthand, instead of relying on others to tell him the job was done.

“You’ve been awfully quiet there, Ghost.” Jesse murmured. Reaper started slightly and his vision came into focus. Jesse was in the same position, though his eyes were visible from above the top of his hat.  He raised an eyebrow. “Cat got your tongue? Ain’t got nothing cryptic or edgey to say?” 

Reaper leant forward, confused. “...Edgey?” 

Jesse groaned. “You gotta be kidding me.” The cowboy lamented. Reaper huffed. 

“You have thirty minutes of freedom. Enjoy being able to move while you can, cowboy.”  Jesse glared. 

“Don’t call me cowboy.”

“Don’t call me ghost.”

“ _ Ghost. _ ”

“ _ Cowboy. _ ”

Jesse stood up and stretched. He glanced around. “Where’s the bathroom in this place?” He asked. 

Reaper leant back. “The what?”   
“Bathroom. I have no idea how you managed to stay tied up in our base without having to use it.” Jesse explained, rolling his shoulders back. Reaper coughed. 

“It’s down the hall and to the left. Don’t try to escape, there are no other exits than the one in front.” 

“Alright, warden.” Jesse grumbled. Reaper snorted. 

“Be quick about it.”

 

* * *

  
  


Zenyatta sat silently as Winston held his leg up and examined it. It was a rather remarkable contrast, Overwatch’s resident scientist’s large hands and his small, frail legs. Winston hummed idly as he examined the wires and mechanisms that allowed it to function. Nearby, Jack Morrison was tinkering with his broken pulse rifle. Their captives were fast asleep. They lost a lot of blood, so it’s only natural. Though they were unconscious for around 12 hours earlier.

Perhaps they were just lazy. 

“This is a very interesting injury, Zenyatta.” Winston remarked. “It’s nothing to do with severed wiring, or disconnected joints. It’s either an overload of electricity to the wires, or a corruption in your motor programming.” 

Zenyatta nodded. 

He didn’t really understand what that meant. 

Winson sighed. “I’m not too experienced with omnics. If Torbjörn were here he’d be able to fix you in a matter of seconds.” Winston paused, as if remembering something. “If he didn’t try to kill you.” He added as an afterthought, lowering Zenyatta’s leg. 

“Comforting.” Zenyatta acknowledged. Winston chuckled. 

“Don’t worry, I can fix it before we’re due to set out for King’s Row.” Zenyatta was filled with relief. He had been left without control of his legs in the past, and it’s not a wholly pleasant experience. 

“I appreciate it, Winston.” Zenyatta said, patting Winston’s hand. He received a large grin in return. 

“Don’t mention it.” 

Zenyatta gave him a thumbs-up and a nod. “You wouldn’t mind, uh,” Zenyatta gestured to where Morrison was sitting alone. Winston looked puzzled for a moment, before his eyes widened and he nodded. 

“Oh, no, of course!” Winston assured, picking Zenyatta up and taking him over. He deposited Zenyatta gently next to Morrison, and propped him up. “I’ll go gather my materials.” He said, before heading off. Zenyatta waved at the man. 

“Greetings, Jack.” He said. Jack nodded curtly in response. Zenyatta watched, intrigued as he worked on his gun with shaking hands.Zenyatta was aware that the absence of Jesse McCree was in fact impacting Jack Morrison, so asking would be rather pointless. Instead, Zenyatta decided to hum. 

He took one of the orbs from around his neck, and began to study the intricate designs on it. How the light glow shined off of his body, and how the small designs combined to form a small masterpiece. 

He tossed it in the air, and caught it in his other hand. Morrison laughed, and it sounded rough. 

“You gonna juggle?” He asked. Zenyatta looked at him inquisitively.

“Will it help ease your mind?” 

Morrison shook his head. Zenyatta shrugged. “Then I will not juggle.” 

“Would you have juggled if I had said yes?”   
“Hmm. Doubtful.”

“Then why ask?”   
“...Courtesy?” Zenyatta proposed. Jack laughed again. 

“You’re alright, Zenyatta.” He remarked. 

The orb in Zenyatta’s hand swelled with harmonious energy.

 

* * *

  
  


Zarya stared at the phone on her bedside table, as she lifted her weights. She wasn’t breaking a sweat, the weights only weighing 75 pounds each. She was mostly doing it to take her mind off… things. 

Sure she could bury her face into her pillow, or she would pace around, staring at the blue walls as she wore a hole into the floor, or she could just  _ text the girl she was obsessing over.  _

Mei-Ling Zhou, the adorable little woman she met in the airport.  

The woman with the adorable fuzzy boots, the cute button nose, and the big glasses. Who’s heavy accent was the cutest thing Zarya has ever heard, and apparently had been  _ cryogenically frozen  _ for a number of years. Not to mention friends with world-famous DJs and Overwatch operatives. 

Zarya blushed and nearly dropped her weights just thinking about her. 

Deeming this was getting out of hand, she set her weights down and flopped down onto her bed. She stole another glance to her pink-cased phone. 

_ I’m going to do it, I’m going to do it…  _ She thought to herself repeatedly.  _ I’m going to do it… _ She thought, resolutely. She reached out with a trembling hand, and her phone chimed, signaling that she received a message.

No, she didn't  _ lunge  _ for her phone. 

She calmly, and with dignity, reached out and checked her phone. 

**_[1 new message from Torbjӧrn Lindholm]_ **

Zarya felt crushing disappointment as she opened the message. 

**_[Zarya? How do you feel about Overwatch?]_ ** Zarya raised her eyebrows.

_ [I admire and respect their service in ending the First Omnic Crisis. Why?] _

**_[I have an interesting proposition for you…]_ **

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter would have been up earlier but   
> but   
> i got obsessed with hear me out hear me out   
> //phantom of the opera au//  
> *holds up pom poms and shakes them excitedly*


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rope around the Reaper

Jesse didn’t talk on the way to the fifth checkpoint. Reaper had tied him up again, and was carrying him like he did before. Maybe he just wasn't satisfied with the arrangement.  Reaper himself didn't mind too much. Though once again, he found his silence unsettling.

The fifth checkpoint was the second to the last, a dense clump of trees  at the edge of a forest. Much less secure than any of the others, so Reaper was doubtful he would be able to give Jesse the courtesy of undoing his restraints.

The checkpoint was near, he could see it as he walked. But something was out of place. There was an ever-so-dim blue light, and Reaper sensed the buzz of life.

According to Talon, this area was supposed to be empty. In fact, it was supposed to be under surveillance. Reaper quickened his steps, jostling McCree as he did so.  The light suddenly became dimmer, but the light became more scattered, as if someone had put their palm over a lightbulb.  Reaper made it to the edge of the tree cluster, and peered inside.

All he could see was an old Bastion unit, standing near the edge, covering the light on it’s face with it’s hand.

 _That’s strange. Maybe it’s a precautionary measure Talon though was necessary since I'm the only one who went on the mission who came back._ Reaper thought. _Though how did they reprogram it to be so dormant?_

Reaper noticed Jesse glance around.

“Is somethin’ wrong?” He asked.

“I'm not sure.” He stepped into the cluster and glanced around, his eye never leaving the Bastion. Ever movement he took was calculated, cautious.

Everything was going fine, until he heard that terrifyingly familiar whistle.

He immediately dropped Jesse and fell to the ground, visions of war-torn landscapes and fields and fields of carnage filling his mind, he could almost smell the smoke and fire.

Though he knew full well that he wasn’t fighting in another war, the instinct was still there.

He looked up and saw the formerly blue light on the bastion was now a garish red. It began to fire bullets, the loud clatter of it’s gun echoing in the clearing. Reaper rolled out of the way.

But he realized too late, that Jesse was bound with immobility cord.

He heard a pained shout, and immediately shadow-stepped behind Jesse, and picked him up.

Amidst the storm of bullets from the Bastion unit, others were being fried from elsewhere. As he ran, holding Jesse close to him, tearing at the cord with his claws, he looked up into the trees. He saw the red glow of Widowmaker’s sight peeping from a high branch.

 _“Damn traitor.”_ He growled, becoming enraged.

There was a snap as the cord became severed, and Jesse sprang out of Reaper’s arms and ran. Reaper snarled. “Not this time” He would not let Jesse run off into the night for a second  time. He grabbed his shotguns and fired once into Jesse’s shoulder, and another time into his knee. He felt slightly regretful, but this was the only way to ensure his prey didn’t get too far. He felt his cells settle from his earlier teleportation, and prepared to do it again, but was interrupted by a loud shout.

He turned from Jesse, becoming distracted, and saw one of the Overwatch agents (Lucio?) Running towards the Bastion unit. He was waving his hands wildly. The Bastion turned toward him, and Reaper smirked, thinking he was about to witness a very, _very,_ satisfying death.

But to his surprise, the Bastion unit chirped confusedly, and lowered it’s gun, the light on it’s head fading back to blue. The agent sighed in relief, then turned to Reaper.

Reaper sighed, now having to take care of this himself. He shot the agent twice, once in the abdomen, and once at the top of his ear.

He fell to the ground and yelled hoarsely. _Not dead yet._ Reaper noted angrily. He stalked forward, the Bastion still blubbering and beeping. He shot it twice as well.

He raised his weapons and smirked. As Lucio cowered on the ground beneath him, shaking as he wrapped one arm around his stomach.

“Say goodnight.” Reaper  grunted, his fingers twitching on the triggers. Lucio looked up, and instead of the fear and terror he usually saw glistening in the eyes of his victims- his were angry and determined.

“Push off.” The agent said through gritted teeth. Reaper took a step back, and the agent raised his strange weapon, a greenish light surrounding it.

Reaper felt a huge, invisible force slam into him. He felt his breath being forced from his lungs as he was knocked back of his feet and sent flying back into a tree.

His head rang, and his vision went white. Near the back of his head he could feel a painful buzz that dripped down his back. He shook his head, and his vision slowly returned. He heard someone cheer, and felt someone place a pair of handcuffs on his wrists.

Genji was standing over him, his lights accented in the darkness of the night. Reaper made to stand up. _I have the immobility cord, they can't bind my movements._ He reasoned, but Genji shook his head, stepped on Reaper’s shoulder and pulled some rope out of the bag he had slung over his shoulders. In an instant, reaper was bound with rope.

“The cuffs you’re wearing are prototypes of the ones you managed to break out of.” Genji explained, a noticeable bite to his voice. Reaper laughed.

“I broke out of those cuffs before, I'll do it again.” He promised. All he needed was a little time… And these would come of just as easily with a bit of sawing.

The claws on his gloves weren’t just for appearances.

Genji’s shoulders rolled back, as if he wasn’t intimidated. “Thank you for reminding me.” He said, before reaching down and slipping Reaper’s gloves off his hands.

Reaper felt momentarily panicked. Without his gloves, his deformity would be exposed.

 _Though I doubt I'll get any trouble from Shimada on the subject of deformities._ He remarked.

Genji said nothing when he saw the scarred, color-shifting skin, and Reaper was thankful.

Sort of.

Genji pulled him to his feet and moved to stand behind him. Reaper strained forward when he felt a sharp pressure against his back.

“I thought your _master_ didn't want you to play rough.”

“This is far from rough, Reaper.” Genji bit. Reaper shrugged.

_I've been captured again. By the same damn people. Either Overwatch is better than I gave them credit for, or I'm losing my edge._

He didn't want to admit to either, so he blamed Jesse for clouding his judgment.

“I hope you have a medic.” Reaper said.

“We did. You shot him.”

“My bad.”

“You’re despicable.”

“Guilty.”

Genji pushed him to the left, away from  Tracer, who was holding some sort of canister, Lucio groaning in pain at her side and muttering about the pain in Portuguese. The Bastion was beeping quietly, and Jesse was leaning against a tree.

“Just throw it on the ground, sugarplum.” McCree said, sounding pained. It grated on Reaper’s ears.

Tracer through the canister to the ground, a and a biotic field activated. Lucio sighed in relief as his wounds closed, and McCree moaned and slouched.

Reaper didn't like the way that made his face heat up.

“It really is amazing.” Tracer remarked, the wonder in her voice making Reaper feel like driving a spike through his neck. “Modern medicine sure is miraculous, huh?”

Lucio nodded and picked up his gun. He flipped a switch and music began to play from it, expediting the healing process.

Widowmaker dropped from above, and Tracer sprang to her feet. “Amélie!”

Widowmaker removed her visor. Her expression was confused. “Who?”

Tracer paled slightly, but shook her head. “Never mind. Nice job!” She said brightly.

Widowmaker bowed. “Thank you.”

“Lovers!” Lucio sing-songed. Widowmaker glared.

“Be careful, or I’ll put more holes in you.” She said, but with no real venom. Lucio laughed nervously.

Reaper felt a weird sort of jealousy that Widowmaker had been able to quickly integrate herself into Overwatch and establish a rapport with them.

Jesse stood up. “That biotic field really does the trick.” He remarked. Tracer ran to him and enveloped him in a hug.

“Jess!” She cried. He laughed breathlessly.

“I’m happy to see ya too, sugarplum. But I've been sitting her for a while now.” He pointed out. Tracer shook her head.

“I had yo wait until you were all healed up.” She said. He laughed, and patted her head.

“How’re things back at HQ?” He asked. “I see you succeeded in reforming one of our outlaws.”

“She’s been a big help.” Tracer said, a disgusting fondness in her voice. Jesse tipped his hat in her direction, and Tracer let go of him.

“Thank ya kindly, miss.”

Widowmaker nodded. Jesse looked back to Tracer. “Nobody got hurt during the breakout?”

Lucio rubbed the back of his head, and the pressure on Reaper's back increased.

“Zenyatta kinda… Lost his ability to walk?” Lucio said. Jesse instantly looked to Genji, but not before looking at Reaper for an awkward second.

“Sensei will be fine.” Genji assured. “We still have Roadhog and Junkrat in captivity.”

“Minus one arm.” Tracer added. McCree’s eyebrows furrowed. “But now that we have you, everything’s back to normal!” Tracer handed McCree a communicator, which he fastened behind his ear. “We should check in with Winston, let them know he have you.”

“Right.”

They activated a call, Lucio, Tracer, and Jesse all clustering close to the phone. The Bastion whistled and followed Lucio like an obedient puppy. Widowmaker moved to stand in front of Tracer.

“Well, it looks like _Fantôme_ didn't get away with taking Christine.” She said, her voice filled with false sweetness and mocking sympathy.

“What the hell does that mean?” Reaper snarled. Widowmaker chuckled and patted the side of his mask with a condescending smile, before her expression turned pointed and cold.

“Don’t concern yourself. Just know that there’s no happy endings for ghosts.” She whispered, before leaving. Reaper glared after her.

“Winston! Look who we found!”

 

* * *

 

 

“That's amazing!” Winston said brightly, relieved that McCree was unharmed. Next to him, Morrison thrust his fist in the air, and Zenyatta clapped. “Did you manage to catch Reaper as well?”

The angle of the camera shifted, so they  could see Reaper, tied up with Genji standing behind him.

Winston smiled. “Wonderful work, team!”

“Greetings, Genji.” Zenyatta said. The projected image of Genji waved at him, before his hand dropped back to holding the rope around Reaper.

The angle shifted once again, so that Tracer. Lucio, and McCree could be seen. “We also found another recruit!” Lucio stated. “We found this old Bastion unit, and he’s wicked adorable!”

“Adorable? A Bastion?” Morrison asked, disbelievingly. Lucio shrugged.

“Something’s up with his coding. He has a pet bird! Though useful in a pinch.”

A string of beeps followed this announcement.

“Well, we have a few new recruits as well.” Winston informed.

“Really? Who?”

Winston cleared his throat and tapped the screen, bringing up a collection of profiles. “Well, Mei ran into Angela Ziegler in Latvia, and convinced her and her fiance to join our effort.”

“Mercy’s gettin’ hitched?” McCree whistled. Winston nodded.

“To Fareeha Amari. Ana’s daughter.”

“Really?”

“Yes. She currently works for Helix Security International, and is highly spoken of, according to her files. In addition, Torbjörn has agreed to re-join us. Though he refuses to offer his help with the mission in King’s Row.”

Zenyatta slumped.

“And he is bringing in Aleksandra Zaryanova.”

Tracer sighed dreamily. “The weightlifter?”

Winston chuckled. “ _Former_ weightlifter. She now fights the omics in Russia.”

Zenyatta slumped further, and Morrison awkwardly patted his head.

“This is great news! We’ll start heading back immediately! See ya, loves!”

Tracer hung up the call.

Winston sighed and set down his phone.

“Let's get back to work on that leg, Zenyatta.”

“Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't say it enough but all the comments and kudos? I literally love you all SO MUCH like I know I don't respond to a whole lot of your comments but I kid you not, I adore EVERY. SINGLE. ONE.  
> I just  
> *holds up glittering pom poms*  
> You're all so amazing and thank you so much I'll be your official cheering squad


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kool-aid still exists in 2060

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *pom poms* wildy with reckless abandon  
> D . O you see the amount of kudos this fix has?!??!?? I can't believe it I literally can't believe it I'm going to cry  
> Thank s to everyone who has read this and given feedback or just read it I  
> Thanks  
> ...anyway.

Widowmaker felt a strange sort of contentment as their search party began to head back. The moon was full, and cast an enchanting silver glow on the edge of the forest. Nobody but their team was around, and the only known threat was tied up and silently brooding atop a peculiarly friendly omnic. Sounds of conversation and laughter mingled with the light rustling of leaves from a warm breeze, creating a subtle yet lovely melody, and Tracer’s hand in her own made for an admittedly calming and enjoyable experience. 

She could get used to it.

Though something was pressing against her thoughts, making her unable to wholly enjoy it. She looked to Tracer, who was walking with a spring in her step, lightly swinging their entwined hands. 

“What was the name you called me?” Widowmaker asked. Tracer’s movements slowed. 

“Sorry love?” She asked. Her eyebrows were raised in an adorable way, her head tilted.

“Earlier. You called me Amélie. Why?” Widowmaker clarified. A guilty look passed over Tracer’s face, and Widowmaker became slightly worried. 

“It’s um…” Tracer nervously blew her hair out of her face. “Did Talon ever call you anything else but Widowmaker?” 

Widowmaker frowned, not knowing how that question was relevant. “Yes. On occasion they called me Lacroix. I presume it’s my last name.” Tracer nodded, and Widowmaker paused in her steps.

“Do you… Know how I am?” She ventured, feeling excitement rush through her body. She took Tracer’s other hand in hers. “Is Amélie Lacroix my name?”

Tracer nodded, a small smile on her face. 

_ Amélie Lacroix.  _

She felt the rush of excitement drain away.  _ I don't like it.  _

It sounded fine, yes. But when she thought it, when she said it, it made her head ache and her stomach feel ill. If this was connected to something in her other life, she didn't want to remember. It also felt incomplete somehow. 

She looked at Tracer’s worried face, hoping that somehow she would be able to pick up of her distress without her having to vocally say so. She gripped Tracer’s hands tighter. 

“I won't call you that if you don't want me to.” Tracer offered. Widowmaker was once again stunned by the amount that Tracer seemed to  _ care  _ about her, even when she had done nothing but hurt and kill in the past. “I can call you Widowmaker until you find a name you’d rather have.”

Widowmaker blinked. “ _ Non.  _ Amélie is fine. Just… Not Lacroix.”

Something in her was screaming that she didn’t deserve the name Lacroix. Tracer nodded, and dropped one of her hands from Widowmaker’s-  _ Amélie's.  _ She found herself missing the warmth. 

“Okay, Amélie!” Tracer said brightly, with a grin that could light up all of London.

Amélie didn't deserve to look at it. 

“We’re falling behind, love.” Tracer pointed out. Amélie raised an eyebrow.

“Then zip on ahead,  _ mon cher.” _ Tracer shook her head and began to walk, pulling Amélie along.

“Nah, I'd rather walk with you.” She said, turning back and giving a wink. Amélie scoffed. Though on the inside she was in turmoil. 

_ What right do you have to be happy? _

She looked at Tracer, the spring in her step, the light in her eyes. The way her hair moved in the light breeze, and how her cheeks were light pink. 

_ I may not have any right to happiness, but I’ll protect hers. Even if it means becoming a full-time Overwatch agent. _

She quickened her steps , and in very little time they were with the rest of the team once more. 

Lucio was walking next to the omnic, talking animatedly. “Hey Bastion- check this out!” he said excitedly, before trailing off into a bunch of random beeping sounds, obviously intended to mimic the omnic’s way of speech. The omnic, in return, whistled shrilly. Lucio turned around, looking at Genji with a huge smile on his face. “D’ya think Zenny will be able to understand this guy?” He asked. The cyborg chuckled.

“Zenny?” Lucio beamed. 

“Zenny, Zenyatta.” He waggled his eyebrows. “ _ Master?” _

Tracer burst into laughter, and McCree joined in from where we was walking next to Genji, shaking his head. 

“ _ Yes.  _ Sensei will be able to understand Bastion.” Genji said. Lucio pulled out his phone. 

“Let's call him then!” He proposed, looking through his list of contacts. 

“Master doesn’t have a phone.” Genji said, Lucio waved him off. 

“ _ You’re all imbeciles. _ ” Reaper muttered. McCree hit him on the head.

“Be nice or be quiet.”

He decided to be quiet, and Amélie his her laugh behind her hand.

“Ooh! Shh guys!” Lucio said. Winston popped up on his phone screen. 

“Lucio? Is something wrong?” He asked. Lucio shook his head.

“Nah. Could you put Zenyatta on?”

Uh.. Okay?” 

The Omnic’s person filled the screen. 

“Do you need something Lucio?” He inquired politely. Widowmaker appreciated his manners. 

“Yeah! Could you translate this fella?” He asked, angling his phone so Zenyatta could see Bastion. 

Zenyatta nodded. “Certainly.” He began to speak in sounds, like Bastion did, and Bastion responded in kind, louder than Amélie had heard before. “My friend says that he’s very happy to have  new friends.” Bastion chirped, and his bird fluffed its feathers. “He and Ganymede are especially happy that… Lulu? No, Lucio, pardon me, is so very kind. Even though he cannot speak his language properly.”

Lucio fist pumped. 

Amélie shook her head.

_ No, not fondly. _

 

* * *

 

 

“You finally answered the call then?” Reinhardt asked, running a cloth along his warhammer. 

He was sitting outside by a stream in a small English town. His feet were in the water, and his armor was nearby, waiting to be polished. Brigitte was in town, shopping and whatnot. His phone was laying next to him on the bank, Torbjörn on the other end of the call. 

“Well, ye finally twisted my arm enough.” the small man answered. “Though I’m not gonna aid you in your little mission up in England.”

Reinhardt groaned. Everytime that be called Torbjörn, the man would not be quiet about how he thought Reinhardt’s mission was pointless. 

Reinhardt had absolutely no qualms with omnics. In fact, he found them quite amazing. 

When he was growing up all the movies would have amazing robots that could feel and talk. Never in his life did he think that he would actually live to see them. Though the Omnic Crisis was a terrible catastrophe, and the current situation in Russia was a travesty, he could not bring himself to harbor any ill will to the entire race. 

Hence why he was doing a little bit of investigation into the Omnic Bomb on behalf of Overwatch.

“And I'm bringing in a friend of mine. Aleksandra Zaryanova. She’s fighting the omnics in Russia, that's how we met. She hates the bastards just a much as I do.”

“When’s the wedding.” Reinhardt deadpanned. 

“Har har.” Came Torbjörn’s sarcastic response. Reinhardt shook his head.

“You know that Overwatch currently has an omnic under its employ?”

“Aye, Winston mentioned it.”

“Are you going to play nice?” Reinhardt asked. 

“It’s only one paperclip. Besides, the whole team is nearly back.”

“I hear Angela  is returning as well, with Fareeha.” Reinhardt noted, rubbing at an especially large smudge. 

“Doctor Ziegler? Ah, she’ll be a sight for sore eyes. But who’s -ah-?”

“Fareeha Amari. Her fiance.” Reinhardt clarified. “I met her once when we went to visit Angela in Zürich. She had lovely hair.”  

“How is it that such a talented woman is your niece?” 

Reinhardt sighed, a large pang striking his heart. “Angela’s parents were both remarkably brilliant. My sister even more so than her husband. It’s a shame war took them both.” He lamented, staring out into the water blankly.

“Sorry for bringing up old wounds, my friend.” Torbjörn said apologetically.

Reinhardt hummed, a note that soon became a slower rendition of “True Survivor.” Reinhard began slowly to sway to the song, finding comfort in the finilar song. Tobjörn groaned.

“Not that song again! Aren’t you getting too old for this music?” 

Reinhardt gasped. “Too old for Hasselhoff? Never!”

“You used to play that song non stop during your Overwatch days.” Torbjörn pointed out. 

“It’s my ringtone.” Reinhardt pouted. Setting his hammer down on the grass next to him. Torbjörn sighed.

“Well I better get goin’.” He said, regretfully. 

“Already? Ach, well I’ll talk to you later.”

The call ended, and Reinhardt felt some guilt relief. Torbjörn was one of his closest friends, but the man was quite draining. 

He took a deep drink from the bottle next to him. 

Out of all the things to still be around after all these years, he never expected Kool-Aid to be one of them. But he was exceedingly grateful. It was the next best thing to a good beer. 

He picked up his helmet, and opened his container of armor polish. He looked out over the landscape. 

Lush green grasses with a sprinkling of wildflowers gently blowing. A clear stream, and the distant tweeting of birds. 

It was nice. 

He took out a clean rag and dipped it into the polish and began rubbing circles into his helmet, finding a nice speed. 

His phone chimed, saying he received a text. He opened it with one hand, and held his helmet in the other. The message was from Lucio.

**_[Reinhardt my man! Can you settle something for us?]_ **

_ [Certainly my young friend! What is it?] _

**_[Which one of these omnics is cuter?]_ **

He revived two pictures, one of a Bastion unit with a bird on it’s head waving at the camera, and one of a newer omnic, with a 3-by-3 light array giving the camera a peace sign with a crown of flowers atop its head. 

They were  _ both _ adorable. 

_ [The newer omnic.]  _ He sent back decisively. 

**_[C’mon, really?]_ **

_ [Really. Have you ever been on the business end of a Bastion’s turret?] _

**_[Nah. But this one’s special! It has a bird!]_ ** Reinhardt chuckled.  _ Kids these days…  _

He took another drink, and resumed his armor maintenance, humming one of Lucio’s songs. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Reinhardt 
> 
> Also did you know I have yet to write a story where nobody dies?
> 
> I don't intent to change that pattern


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That was simple

The return journey was largely uneventful, but the team was relieved to see the abandoned film studio nonetheless. Tracer blinked to the entrance, nearly slamming into the door as she did so, to everyone’s amusement. McCree noticed that even Reaper huffed out a small laugh. 

“Headquarters at last!” She cried, throwing open the door and bolting inside. McCree stood by the doorframe and let his team walk in before him. Though he stopped Bastion before he entered.

“I'll take this of your hands.” He said, reaching up and taking Reaper off the omnic’s shoulders. Bastion beeped and walked inside. He slung Reaper over his shoulders.

“You’re pretty light, Ghost. What do you eat?” He asked. He meant it as a joke, but found he was actually curious. He strolled into the base.

“Souls.” Reaper responded grumpily. McCree raised an eyebrow.

“That's stretching it on the whole ‘grim reaper’ thing.” He informed. 

“It’s true. If I kill someone I can absorb their life force.”

McCree patted the rope that bound reaper. “Whatever you say.” 

He walked into the main common space, where he saw Zenyatta talking to Genji, their hands entwined. Lucio laying on the ground while Bastion stood over him. Widowmaker standing by as Winston and Tracer embraced, and Junkrat was screaming. 

Jesse’s shoulders slumped, and Reaper slipped slightly.  _ It’s great to finally be back somewhere familiar.  _

He gently set Reaper down, then shut and  bolted the door. Jack approached him, his steps falling heavier than usual. 

“Howdy, Jack.” McCree greeted, a grin on his face. “Fancy meetin’ you here.” Morrison grunted, before pulling McCree into a one-armed hug. 

“You scared me, kid.” He said quietly. McCree relaxed into him slightly.

“What, don’t think I could handle a little bit of kidnapping, old man?” Jesse teased. Morrison smacked the back of his head, pushing his hat forward. 

“That’s sir to you.” Jack corrected, his voice filled with subdued amusement. From behind, McCree head Reaper growl. He stepped back from Morrison. 

“Quit bein’ a baby.” He scolded. Reyes was a grown man, not some sort of bobcat.  “Ya’ll got a lot to talk about.” He said, addressing Jack and Reyes. 

Reaper scoffed and threw his head back. “I don’t have anything to say to  _ him.”  _

Morrison crossed his arms“Likewise.”

McCree sighed. Each of these men were at  _ least  _ nine years older than him, and they were acting like children. 

Morrison began to walk away, and Jesse grabbed the collar of his jacket. “Where do ya think you’re goin’? He asked, pulling the man back to him. “We’re gonna get Reaper situated back up in that room, and the three of us are gonna have a  _ long _ chat.” He said, before letting go. 

Morrison “Earlier you wanted to keep my identity secret. What changed?” 

Reaper’s pained words came to the front of his mind. 

_ “You're a bit too late for worrying, Jesse” _

McCree shrugged. “Change of heart.” He turned back to Reaper, and began to move him through the common area. “Y’know Ghost, there's this saying- ‘If ya can’t beat ‘em join ‘em.’” 

Reaper sent rigid. “I don’t think your little boy scout troop would appreciate a terrorist joining their ranks.” Reaper grumbled. “Not that I would consider it.” He tacked on at the end.  McCree  moved him down the hallway and back to the the room he kept Reaper in before. 

“Come on Gabe, there’s no way that you owe any allegiance to Talon.” He said, opening the door and pushing him inside. He closed the door behind him and reached to untie the ropes, but he hesitated. 

Last time he untied him, he managed to escape. But  _ he _ untied Jesse when he was his prisoner. 

Opting to place his faith in the fact that Reaper wouldn’t be able to escape without his gloves, he began to untie the rope. 

“You don’t wanna tell me where you put my peacekeeper, do ya?” He asked.

“In my cloak. The left side.” Reape answered. McCree was pleased at his cooperation.  _ Maybe this isn’t such a waster effort after all.  _ He remarked, letting the rope drop and taking the weapon from the inside of the coat. 

It was a sweet relief to have the familiar weight in his hand. It was still loaded. Reaper stood up, and McCree leant against the door. 

“I'm gonna ask again, why is Talon after Overwatch?” Reaper went over to the desk that had been pushed to the wall. He leant against it, facing McCree. 

“Every country is preoccupied with the omnic situation, and everyone is taking it as ‘an omnium began to manufacture rouge omnics out of the blue.’ The truth of the matter is that Talon actually created it’s own god program to initiate the second omnic crisis. They’re targeting Overwatch agents and systems because Overwatch was the only organization capable of quarantining the God Programs before.” Reaper explained. McCree’s eyes widened. “I’m working with them because we have a similar goal. I want Overwatch  _ agents _ dead, they want Overwatch’s  _ programs  _ dead. As for why they started the Second Omnic crisis- I don’t know. Money from arms dealers. You might know more about that than me.” 

Jesse was astounded. “You-you’re serious?” Realer nodded.

“What cause would I have to lie?” 

“Why do you want Overwatch agents dead?” McCree asked. Reaper signed shortly. 

“Revenge.” McCree stepped forward. 

“That's it? Revenge?”  Reaper shrugged. 

“That's it. Revenge.” McCree walked closer. For some reason, he felt like she should be closer to Reaper. 

“Why’d you tell me?” He came to a stop a foot away from Reaper. 

“Weakness. Foolishness. Affection.” Reaper listed. “Choose your favorite.” Jesse felt heat rise to his face, and his heart quickened. 

He adjusted his serape. “I ain’t fallin’ for that.”  Reaper stepped closer. 

“It’s the truth.” Reaper protested. “I don’t take of my mask for just anyone.”

McCree’s breath hitched, but he ignored it. “You were making a point.” He said, standing his ground, and jabbing his finger into Reaper’s chest. 

“But which point  _ was  _ I making?” Reaper countered, grabbing Jesse‘s hand in his cuffed one, and pulling him closer, causing Jesse to stumble slightly and his spurs to jangle. Jesse gave him a wary look despite the blush that covered his face, now pressed nearly chest-to-chest.

“What’re you doin’?” He sighed. Reaper’s cold hands loosened around his wrist, before tightening again. McCree brought his metal hand shakily up to Reaper’s face.

Before grabbing his hood and pulling it down over his mask, making Reaper let go of his hand in shock. Jesse stepped back.

_ “ _ Not gonna happen, Ghost. You’re gonna have to do better than you’ve been doing if that’s  _ ever  _ gonna happen again.” He stated. Reaper slumped.

“Didn’t I just tell you everything you wanted to know?” He complained. Jesse laughed. 

“That’s true, but actions speak louder than words.”  He activated his communicator. “Winston? I’ve got the info you need. Jack? Get in here, you’re gonna talk.”

_ “I don’t want t-” _

“Shut your yap and get in here.” He snapped, and cut off communication. 

“Since when is he ‘Jack?’” Reaper said, a jealous edge to his typical rumbling. 

“Since he stopped being commander.” Jesse said, stretching.  _ That’ll do it _ , he thought.  _ God, I really need a cigar. Maybe Tracer will be able to get some before they head out to England. _

He took in a deep breath, and waited patiently for Jack to show up.

He didn’t.  He activated his communicator again. 

“ _ Jack _ . I have some critical info and if you don't come in here and substitute watch with me I'm taking it to my damn  _ grave _ .” He said, annoyance saturating every word. Reaper laughed. 

Three minutes later Jack opened the door and stepped in, carrying Roadhog’s confiscated weapon. 

“Finally.” McCree walked over and stated Morrison in the visor. “Y’all be nice, I’ll be back up here.” He warned, before leaving the room. 

He shuddered as the door closed. 

 

  
  
“This is amazing!” Winston exclaimed, eyes twinkling. McCree smiled and sat back, crossing his legs atop the table. “This is- wow- this is almost everything we needed to know about Talon’s motives!”

“Excellent work, Jesse McCree.” Zenyatta praised from where he sat leaning against Genji’s chest on the ground. “Now we just need to know the location of their bases, their plan of attack, and the extent of their control.” Zenyatta listed, unaware of the effect that his words were having on the team, slowly bringing them down from their excited highs. Though when he was met with silence, he looked up to Genji. “Did I… Do something wrong?” He asked. Genji shook his head and wrapped his arms around Zenyatta’s middle.  _ And to think they haven’t figured it out yet  _ McCree mused. Winston coughed. 

“Well he’s right, but this is a huge step in the right direction! With this information we don’t have to keep Junkrat and Roadhog under our surveillance anymore.” He said, relief evident in his tone. 

“Well we can’t just let ‘em go free.” Lucio pointed out. 

“Yes you can! YES YOU CAN!” Junkrat yelled. Genj nodded.

“You’re right. We can’t.” The cyborg agreed. 

“They could always work with us!” Tracer proposed. “Amélie seems to be getting along fine.” She said affectionately, gesturing to the woman whose arm she was hanging off of. 

“Ain’t no way that’s gonna happen!” Junkrat protested. McCree turned around to look at him. He looked like he would be crossing his arms, had he possessed the capability. “We tried goin’ legit once, didn’t we Hog?” He said, jabbing Roadhog in the stomach with his stump of an arm. 

“Ya know what we’re doing here is  _ far  _ from legit.” He informed. Junkrat look confused, before tuning to Roadhog, who nodded. 

“Well why didn’t ya say so?” He asked brightly. “That makes it sound  _ alot  _ better!”

“That wasn’t hard.” Widowmaker commented, her eyebrow raised. 

“I’m not sure if I want them to help.” Winston muttered. “They’re far from trustworthy, and haven’t proven themselves like Widowmaker has.” 

Genji spoke up. “I agree with Winston, they can't be trusted.” 

“I believe in second chances for everyone. If they’re willing to help we should let them.” Zenyatta said. McCree stroked his beard in thought. 

“I never offered to help!” Junkrat shouted. 

“Then we should turn them into the authorities.” Tracer said. 

Junkrat whined. “Don’t do that either!” 

Bastion beeped. Zenyatta nodded.

“My friend believes they should be given a second chance.” Lucio ‘awwed’ and patted Bastion on the stomach, then yawned. 

“Can we talk about it in the morning?” He asked, rubbing at his eyes. Winston chuckled.

“Sure thing. Mei, Angela, and Fareeha should be arriving in the morning. We can talk about it with them.”

McCree smiled.  _ It’ll be nice to the the doc and Iced Tea again.  _

“I HATE ALL OF YOU!”

“Hate is an unhealthy ex-”

“SHUT UP!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never said someone would die in this chapter  
> (2)  
> Does this seemed rushed to y'all??


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I love luc(io)

Lucie sat leaning against Bastion in the common space, his eyes glued to his phone. Nearby, Tracer was trying to get Widowmaker and Winston to play a game of Monopoly. Lucio would have joined in a heartbeat, but his attention was devoted to something else. 

On his phone screen D.Va was just finishing a livestream of her latest MEKA mission. She and her team had just managed to take care of one of the monstrous omnics that had risen from the ocean. He felt kind of strange, watching an omnic get destroyed as he leant against one. Though Bastion wasn’t a mindless killing machine. He was one of the coolest omnics that Lucio had ever met. 

“Isn’t she awesome?” Lucio asked, gesturing to the image of D.Va grinning widley and waving from her mech. Bastion swooped, and Lucio took it as a yes. Lucio set down his phone and sighed.”I wanna meet her one day.” He told the omnic, who responded with his customary beeps. 

Tracer appeared suddenly in front of him. 

“Are you done now?” As asked, her voice sounding kinda petulant.  She waved her phone in front of Lucio, the projected image of the Monopoly game board phasing though Lucio’s face. He squinted and waved his hands, laughing.

“Yeah, yeah I’m done.” Tracer pulled it away and grinned triumphantly. 

“Excellent!” She walked over to the table and set her phone down. Lucio stood up and smiled at Bastion and his bird, before following Tracer to the table. He pulled out a chair. 

“Dibs on the dog.” He announced, tapping on the projected canine. 

“Oi! Whatcha doin’?” Junkrat asked from the ground. Lucio nervously looked to Tracer, who didn’t seem to hear, as she was pleading with Widowmaker and Winston again. “Hey, Gennie! I’m talkin’ to you!” Junkrat said. Lucio turned and looked flen at him, feeling uneasy looking into the criminal’s radioactive eyes. “Is it some sorta top-secret planning?” Lucio laughed unsteadily.

“Nah, we’re playing… Monopoly.” Lucio said, realizing that a group of freedom fighters operating outside the law playing monopoly sounded a lot more irresponsible than going over files. Though Junkrat didn’t seem to understand, as he raised one of his bushy eyebrows in confusion.

“What’s Monopoly?” He asked. Lucio’s eyebrows rose, and he frowned.

“You've  never played Monopoly?” Junkrat nodded vigorously. “Well…” He inwardly cringed.  _ Why am I about to do this?  _ He thought of Zenyatta.  _ Everyone deserves second chances… Right… Right.  _ He looked to Tracer. “Hey Lena!”

In an instant, Tracer was at his side. “Yes, love?”

“Could we, uh… Let Junkrat join in on the game?” He asked. Tracer’s eyes widened, but after a moment she nodded. 

“Why not?” She looked past Lucio to their captive. “Do you wanna play with us, Junkrat?” She asked. He nodded violently. 

“Oh absolutely!” He said. “Anything’s better than sitting down here tied up all day!”

“Well then Lucio, help him up onto a chair and I’ll go ask Genji and Zenyatta if they want to play.” Tarcer ordered, then blinked off. Lucio groaned, and turned to Junkrat. Deciding to bite the bullet, he quickly stood up, picked him up like a sack of flour, and set him in a chair, then sat down. Lucio shuddered. 

“How am I gonna play with no arms?” Junkrat asked, holding up his stump. Lucio thought for a moment.

“I’ll move your piece for you.” He said. 

“Alright. How d’ya play?” 

“Well…”

  
  


“Hahaha! Pay up, bot!” Junkrat laughed crazily, kicking his legs. They were tied, he looked like a fish out of water, thrashing about in his chair. Zenyatta merely nodded as he watched the digital count of his currency diminish, and Junkrat’s rise. 

For a master criminal who had never played Monopoly before, he was incredibly good. So good that Winston was in awe, and he was soundly beating everyone playing. And surprisingly, he hadn’t been entirely horrendous. He was actually pretty...funny. 

He had kinda a vibrant energy to him, though it could have been the radiation. Lucio thought that maybe if he put that energy into the right outlet, he wouldn’t be that bad of an Overwatch agent at all. There was also his hatred for omnics, but he seemed to be doing a bit better with Zenyatta.

He wasn’t launching projectiles at him, at any rate. 

“Love,” Tracer said, elbowing Lucio in the side gently. “It's your turn.” Lucio shook his head, bringing him back to the present. 

“Huh-what?” He asked, confused. He heard Genji snicker. “It’s my turn?” He looked at the board. “Huh. Okay.”

He picked up the holographic dice and gave them a solid shake. He tossed them on the board. Two. He moved his piece, and groaned when it landed on the ‘go to jail’ space. Tracer patted his shoulder consolingly. 

“Speaking of jail,” Genji said, leaning forward in his chair. “When are Mei and Doctor Ziegler due to arrive?” Winston checked the time. 

“Any moment now.”

They were silent for a moment, gazes all fixed on the door. They heard Mei’s knock.

She says she took it from an old movie about ice princesses, but Lucio wasn’t really an expert on old movies. 

Unless they were Twilight. 

Tracer zipped to the door and threw it open, before pouncing on Mei.

Lucio stood up quickly, exited to see Me I again. He skated over to the door and pounced on her as well, making it a group hug. 

Mei’s laughter was muffled by the hug, but it warmed Lucio up like a sunny day. 

“It’s good to see you, everybody!” She said, reaching up and ruffling Tracer’s hair and putting an arm around Lucio’s middle. He smiled. 

“You were gone too long, Mei!” Tracer said, pulling back. Lucio stepped back as well, and noticed the two tall women standing behind Mei, smiles on their faces. Tracer gasped, then threw herself onto the blonde one whith a cry of ”Angela!!”  

Lucio laughed and slid back, taking Mei’s hand and pulling her with him. Zenyatta and Genji approached. 

“It’s wonderful to see you again, Mei.” Zenyatta greeted. Mei giggled. 

“Same to you, Zen.” She waved at Genji. “You too, Genji.” He nodded at her. Lucio knew that Genji wasn’t trying to be rude, but the silence was kinda cold. He seemed kinda tense. 

“You alright, Genj?” Lucio asked. The cyborg nodded. Lucio gave him a disbeliving look, but Genki didn’t change his awnser. The other woman that was with Mei walked up to them. She held out her hand. 

“Hello. I am Farreha Amari.” She introduced. Her accent was Egyptian, and her words were curt. Her tone was warm, however. “I look forward to working with you all.” Zenyatta took her and and shook it.

After everyone had been introduced to Fareeha, Angela approached, and Tracer was already blinking back to tell McCree and Morrison that they had arrived. 

Angela had a very beautiful smile, and Lucio thought she looked angelic. Living up the codename Mercy, he guessed. Though a storage look overtook her calm features when she looked at Genji. 

“Greerings, Genji.” She said, an edge to her voice. Genji held out a hand. Angela’s eyes widened as she took it.

“Doctor Ziegler, it is good to see you.” He said. She blinked. 

_ What’s going on with them?  _ Lucio wondered.  _ Probably some Overwatch stuff. Looks like I’m in the dark about more stuff.  _

She looked to Zenyatta. “You must be Zenyatta.” She said. Zenyatta nodded and shook her hand.

“And you must be Angela Ziegler.”

“I’ve heard much about you.” They said at the same time. Lucio ‘oohed’ in awe under his breath as the two looked at each other, before they began to laugh. Genji shuffled his feet, and Lucio wished he had a camera.

“What a pair.” Lucio remarked to Fareeha, holding up his fingers like a frame. She laughed.

“And you need no introduction, Lucio Correia dos Santos.” Lucio jumped a little as he was addressed. But he gave Mercy a grin and shook her hand firmly. 

“And neither do you, Doctor.” He said. She laughed and dripped his hand. Winston cleared his troat, but Tracer zipped I'm before he could say anything. 

“Jack and Jesse are talking to Reaper.” She informed. “He said to say, ‘Howdy Doc, Howdy Iced Tea.’” She said, in a ridiculous Texan accent. Lucio guffawed. “But he says they’re making progress, so I say we leave them be. But how much progr-”

Winston cleared his throat again. He smiled sheepishly. “Uhm, sorry. I really don’t want to be a killjoy, but we  _ did  _ say we would figure out what we were going to do with these two once they arrived.” He pointed out, gesturing to Junkrat and Roadhog. 

Lucio deflated. “Right.”

  
  


They were giving the Junkers a chance. They had voted to let them put of their bindings, but nowhere near their weapons, or anyone else’s. While Roadhog’s brawn might prove to be a problem, the deduced that as long as someone had a weapon, they would be okay. 

So Lucio was given the task of untying Junkrat, while Fareeha and Winston untied Roadhog.

“I can’t believe you're lettin’ us out.” Junkrat said, his voice low and disbelieving. Lucio shook his head.

“Just behave yourself. If you give us any trouble, it's back into the rope and straight to jail. Don’t pass go, and don’t collect 200 dollars. Okay?” Junkrat laughed crazily as the rope dropped. 

“I’ll be on me best behavior!” He promised. Lucio knew that he shouldn’t, but he beloved him anyway. 

Junkrat sprang up, and hobbled over to Roadhog. Roadhog grunted, and Junkrat shook his head. 

Lucio always thought it was weird how they communicated like that. He  _ knew  _ Roadhog could speak. “We’ll give it a try.” Roadhog made another sound. “Hey, who gives the orders here?”

They continued to talk, and Lucio snuck over to Bastion. “How do they do that?” He asked the omnic. Beep bwoop boop.  _ I don’t know.  _ “Me either, bud.”

Lucio listened to the different conversations happening around him. 

“I met Genji in India-”

“About my position here-”

“I met the prettiest Russian woman in the airport-”

He grinned as Bastion’s bird flew to his head, using it as a perch.

He never thought somewhere other than Rio could feel like home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the late update!! I've been super busy and in my downtime I've been ... Playing. . overwatch. But I ! I hate my writing but seeing everyone like this fic a bunch really just  
> You know it just  
> Thank ya'll
> 
> I'm pretty good at lucio Ive discovered so viola, fluff chapter feat. Frog boi. To make up for my absense. (Fluff won't last tho ya guys got like 2 chapters of happiness left)


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sweetness

“The reason that it happened was because you had become too self obsessed, you couldn’t understand the benefits Overwatch unless it benefited you directly!” Morrison shouted, throwing his arms wide. “You were so fixated on your petty feelings of jealousy, everything beyond your own ambition wasn’t important!”

Reaper stepped closer to him, and Jesse’s hand hovered over the handle of his revolver, just in case either of them decided they were going to escalate the conflict. “Get of your high horse,  _ John. _ If you’re going to talk about ambition, talk about your own.” He retorted, his voice loud and rumbling, like thunder. The mask made it sound even more threatening. It sent chills down his spine. “ _ Strike-Commander Morrison-  _ always keeping up appearances in the public. Climbing through Overwatch’s ranks.Though as soon as the opportunity presents itself, you fake your death and turn to a life of crime. Tell me about  _ ambition _ .” He hissed. 

“You  _ blew up  _ our headquarters! You turned agents against us! It’s thanks to you that Overwatch got disbanded.” Morrison accused bitterly.

“Overwatch had problems than ran deeper than me.” Reaper countered. “Peacekeepers? A laugh. We killed to achieve our goals.”

“Don’t get Overwatch confused with  _ Blackwatch, _ Reyes.” Jesse felt this sting from that, though he knew it wasn’t directed at him. He almost intervened, but Gabriel beat him to it.

“Watch what you say, Morrison.” He growled “My agents had twice the talent of all of yours combined.” Jesse felt a slight glow of satisfaction at his words. Jack scoffed and threw back his head. Jesse raised an eyebrow. 

“All of your agents? Or just one?” He asked, suddenly grabbing McCree my the arm and pulling him near. 

“What in tarnation-?” McCree asked, caught off guard. He yanked his arm from Morrison’s grip. “Don’t bring me into this.” He snapped, stepping back. He wasn’t about to be drawn any further into their problems. 

“You’re already in it.” Morrison pointed out. Jesse frowned at him. The white haired man’s vizor reflected the light, and the red glint hit hit Jesse right in the eye. He squinted.

“Listen, Iced Tea and the Doc are here, and I’d like to see ‘em before we start making plans about England.” He sighed and rubbed his temples.  _ I just want ‘em to be civil with each other. They used to be friends, what the hell’s wrong with ‘em?  _ He straightened his hat. “I’m gonna leave this room. But rest assured I’m gonna come back. And if I hear any shouting then I will come in here and string you both up, so help me god.” He said, before exiting the room. 

He took in a breath as he entered the hallway. The quality of air was no different, but the atmosphere in that room is suffocating.  _ What’re we gonna do with him?  _

He walked into the common room. Junkrat and Roadhog were unbound. Which he knew and expected, but seeing it somehow made him more uneasy. Thouh most of his worries vanished as he saw Mei talking to Tracer, who was showing the chinese woman something on her phone. He approached with a large grin. He tapped her on the shouder, and she turned. As soon as she saw him, she beamed and hugged him. 

And Mei was so darn cuddly, it felt like being hugged by a tiny bear. He returned the embrace, but was careful of his metal arm getting tangled in her hair. He patted her back, and she let go. 

“Howdy, partner!” She said happily. Her accent made the words sound off, and odd. But Jesse’d be damned if it wasn’t the most endearing thing he’d ever heard.

“How was your trip, Iced Tea?” He asked. 

“Amazing! Though I’m sorry I had to cut it short.” She added, her voice becoming slightly more mellow. McCree felt a little guilty. He lowered the brim of his hat in apology. 

“Ah, sorry about that.” She patted his elbow. 

“Don’t worry, you couldn’t help getting kidnapped.” He chuckled and shook his head, then looked past her. He spotted a familiar blonde head of hair covering with Zenyatta. He squeezed Mei’s shoulder. “Pardon me, darlin’.”

He walked over to Angela Ziegler. She was covering her mouth with the back of her hand, laughing lightly. Zenyatta was listening patiently, his hands pressed palms-together, being supported by Genji. Angela turned as she saw him approach, and her eyes were as bright and clear as they always were. 

Hell, she didn’t look a day older.

He expected a handshake from the doc, so he was in the process of holding his hand out when she launched herself at him. He staggered back, his arms going around her middle. 

“Hey now-” He said, some air leaving his lungs. He had lifted her slightly off the ground. 

“It’s wonderful to see you  _ Kaktus!”  _ She exclaimed. He set her down gently. “After you disappeared, I was so very worried.” she explained, pulling away from him. “I didn’t know if you were alive or dead.” Her features became slightly stony. “I only found out that you were still alive through your wanted poster.” He laughed nervously. 

“Well… Ah. I’ve certainly heard of you, Doc. Still world class.” His eyes drifted down to her hand, where a glittering band sat on her finger. He took her hand in his metal one. “And engaged. I heard you brought the lucky lady with ya.” He looked around. 

Talking to Winston there was a tall dark skinned woman in a blue sweater and black jeans. She was quite pretty. 

“Fareeha Amari.” She said, her voice glittering with love and affection.  _ That’s sweet. _ “She’s my most dearest.” She paused. “You wouldn’t happen to know when Jack will be showing up?” 

Jesse listened for any shouting. He wondered if Angela knew that Reaper was Gabriel.  “He was some unfinished business to take care of. He’ll be out soon.”

“Ah. I see.” She looked to Zenyatta and Genji, who were talking lowly to each other.    
“I’ll let ya get back to your conversation. I have a few things to run past Winston.”   
Angela pulled him into another hug. “Alright.” She said. Jesse nodded and started off towards Winston. 

 

* * *

 

 

“You are uneasy.” Zenyatta whispered to his pupil, while Jesse and Angela conversed. He looked to his pupil, whose strong body was supporting him as he stood up on his singular functioning leg. Genji’s arms were crossed in front of Zenyatta’s chest. He was warm. Genji pressed his head against the back of Zenyatta’s. “Stop trying to hide behind me, Genji.”

“I’m not trying to hide, Master.” Genji protested. “I just don’t know how to confront her. I was so rude to her in the past, I don’t know how to address how badly I once treated her.”

“You must forgive yourself, Genji. I know you have forgiven her, and I’m certain she has forgiven you.” 

“How could she? When she attempted to help me heal, I responded with insults and violence.” Genji muttered, regretfully. Zenyatta looked up slightly. He was unable to see Genji’s face, but the glow from his vizor gleamed on him. Angela turned around, and redirected her attention back onto the omnic and the cyborg. 

“Sorry. Where were we?” She asked. Zenyatta though back for a moment. 

“I was recounting one of my experiences with a street performer.” Zenyatta informed. 

“That’s right! He wanted you to join his act as a juggler.” Angela laughed. “What did you do then?”

“Well, I told him that I was not interested in juggling, that I was dedicated to my cause and regretfully did not have time to spare for juggling. He seemed to take offense, and attempted to use force to incapacitate me. I believe his words were,  _ ‘Damn robots don’t know their place.’ _ So I attempted to calm him down, but he was not responding.” 

“Oh my.” Angela looked scandalized. 

“So I hit him solidly in the forehead with one of my orbs, and he passed out cold. I stayed until he woke up and administered proper medical attention, but I did have a place to be, so I could not stay and help guide him on the right path. I hope we cross paths again sometime.” 

By the time he stopped talking, Genji was closer to him, and Angela looked stunned, yet admiring.

“Never before have I met someone like you, Zenyatta. You’re quite remarkable.” She said, Zenyatta’s lights brightened at the high praise. He clasped his hands together. “I can see why Genji loves you so deeply.”

Zenyatta's systems froze for a second, his mind blanking and hs joints locking into place. The next moment, they were running extremely fast, his fans loudly running in order to cool him down. He knew his lights had flashed pink, as they did when he was embarrassed.Genji almost dropped Zenyatta, and his vents let out steam. 

Angela looked shocked, and she brought her hands to her mouth. “ _ Meine Güte. _ I was not supposed to say that. I’m so sorry, I just, that’s the-”

“It’s fine, Doctor Ziegler.” Genji said, his voice strained. “It’s a remarkably common misconception.” He explained. Zenyatta’s systems slowed, and his lights faded back to blue.  _ That’s right. Genji doesn’t love me.  _ Zenyatta thought, melancholy settling in his soul. Though he quickly brought himself back into balance. 

Their relationship was more than enough for Zenyatta, and he was sure that Genji loved him in his own way. 

“Well, I apologize regardless.” Angela said. 

“The fault is not yours.” Zenyatta assured. Angela nodded, but she still looked uneasy. “I think that maybe you two should talk without me present. It seems like you have much to discuss. Genji suddenly grabbed him  _ very  _ tightly. Not tight enough to hurt, no. But it was on the cusp. 

“Zenyatta I don’t thin-” Genji began, but Zenyatta silenced him by gently tapping the area on his faceplate where his mouth would be.”Hush. Could you help me over to the table?”

“No.”

Zenyatta became concerned. Genji wasn’t typically that short with him. Thouh Zenyatta expected no special treatment, it was odd. “Genji?” He asked. Genji shook his head. 

“I’m not going to leave you with Junkrat.” Genji informed sternly. Zenyatta would have sighed. 

“Lucio is there was well, they have no weapons, and you’ll be just across the way. Don’t worry about me, my pupil.”

“But-” Zenyatta tapped his mask again. 

“Please.” Zenyatta said, though he made sure to keep his tone light so Genji knew that he wasn’t getting short with him. Genji sighed and slackened. 

“Alright.” He deftly adjusted their position so that Genji was supporting him with one arm beneath his arm. They slowly made their way over, Zenyatta heavily relying on Genji. 

“Thank you, Genji.” Zenyatta said. He meant it truly, and it extended beyond escorting him across a room. 

_ Thank you for supporting me, thank you for allowing me to feel things I never thought I could, thank you for being brave enough to confront your past, thank you for being who you are. Thank you. _

“It’s the least I could do for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i  
> i just love them robot gays i just   
> u know  
> if nay of y'all have OW on PC u should fight me/with me


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What a stressful situation

When Jesse re-entered the room, Gabriel and Morrison were sitting on the two cots in the room. Morrison’s arms were crossed, and Gabriel was looking at the barred windows.  _ At least they ain’t at eachother’s throats.  _ He walked to the center of the room. 

“Did we talk?” He asked. Morrison grunted, and Reaper remained silent. McCree raised his eyebrows and looked them. “ _ Did we? _ ”

“Yes.” Morrison answered, his voice bitter. Jesse sighed. 

“And?”

“We… Came to somewhat of an agreement. But I’m not… I don’t forgive him for what he’s done. I don’t think I ever will.” Jack said. Jesse couldn’t blame him. Reaper was a rogue , and an immoral killer. He had leant his service to horrid organizations and had contributed to gruesome acts of terrorism. There was no way that Jesse could just forget about it, no way that he could forget. But Reaper was also Gabriel Reyes- who gave him a second chance, who made him the person he is. 

As different as they were, they were one and the same. 

“Well, everyone is finalizing the plans for the mission in England. Jack, are you okay with heading out with the team?” Jack nodded. “Then go talk it over with Winston.” 

Jack stood up and went to the door. Before he left, he hesitated at the door. He shook his head and left. Jesse took off his hat and ran his hand through his hair. He walked to the cot Gabriel was sitting on, and took a seat next to him. 

“I appreciate you doin’ that.” McCree said. His voice was slightly soft, and he cursed  himself. He cleared his throat. “We still don’t know what we’re going to do about you. It’s a bit like our issue with with Junkrat and Roadhog. Though people are less likely to agree to let you go because of your y’know. Teleporting thing.” He said, gesturing vaguely. Reaper chuckled. 

“Eloquently put, Jesse.” He commented. Jesse laughed.

“It’s never been my strong suit.”

Reaper turned to him. “I know.” He said, and Jesse suppressed a shiver. He looked towards the door. 

“Someone else is gonna be comin’ in a bit. Tracer maybe.” He informed. 

“What if I don’t  _ want  _ anyone else?” Reaper asked, leaning in closer to McCree. A hot breath can from behind the mask, and McCree immediately stood up, unable to repress the shudder that ran through his body. 

“I’d have to say that I’m sorry ‘bout that.” He said, his voice having an uneasy waver.  _ Damm this Ghost, what is he doing?  _ He shook his head.  _ You know what he’s doing. You just don’t want to get involved again.  _

He didn’t use the word ‘heartbreak.’ Though when someone who you had fallen in love with has killed thousands of people, and kidnapped you, you'd be hesitant to get involved with them again. 

Jesse nearly jumped as he felt Reyes at his back. He turned around and pushed him back slowly. “Woah there.” He said. 

“Didn’t I do what you wanted?” Gabriel complained. Though rather than sounding petulant, his voice was almost a purr. McCree’s face warmed. 

“You did one thing I asked you to do. That’s not really a way to prove yourself.” Jesse said. And it was  _ not  _ an excuse. 

He meant it, really. He had to be completely done with terrorism and senseless violence before Jesse would ever let Gabriel do  _ anything  _ with him.

He looked at the door. “Once the group leaves for King’s Row you’ll be able to leave the room. If you decide you’re going to help us, that is.” 

The door swung open and Tracer stepped in, Widowmaker at her heels. 

They were never apart. Ever. Jesse thought it was kind of cute, though mildly unsettling. Widowmaker was a master assassin, and an ex member of Talon. 

“Here to relieve you of your Reaper duties!” Tracer announced cheerily. Jesse raised an eyebrow. 

“You changed your clothes.” He remarked. It looked identical to her typical ensemble, but instead of garish orange it was bright purple. “Where’d you get... that?” 

“What, you thought I only had one bodysuit? Nah, I’ve got four. Not all of us wear the same cape all the time.” She said, laughing. Jesse frowned, and his hand went to the cloth wrapped around his neck. 

“It’s a serape.” He corrected. A serape that he got from his  _ mother _ , thank you. That she got from her father, and so on. 

It wasn’t a cape. 

“Well, it’s your turn. Have fun, darlin’.” He said, patting Tracer on the shoulder and leaving the room. 

 

* * *

 

 

The first thing that Angela Ziegler did when she saw Jack Morrison, was soundly slap him, before grabbing his ear and pulling him off into the kitchen. Fareeha excused herself from the conversation about King’s Row to follow them. Junkrat giggled madly. 

“I don’t know what just happened, but I likes it!” The junker announced. Roadhog laughed, and Mei moved her chair away from them slightly. Winston coughed. 

“So we have a plan, then?” He asked, bringing people back to the discussion. “We’re testing Widowmaker’s loyalty and ability by sending her on the mission, along with Tracer, Morrison, Zenyatta, and Genji.”

“I don-” Winston held up his hand, silencing Genji. 

“We all know you don’t want Zenyatta to go, Genji. The plan has been finalized. He wanted to help.”

“I’ve been in one place for too long, I must spread my teachings and help my brothers and sisters in any way I can.” Zenyatta elaborated. “My legs shall be fully healed by then.” 

Junkrat scoffed and leant back. “Ya shouldn’t have legs at all, bloody price of junk.” 

“Easy.” McCree warned, his hand drifting down to his revolver, and Genji immediately readied his shuriken. Winston groaned. 

“We let you two out of your restraints, don’t be vulgar.” Winston warned. “You don’t have to adore omnics, but respect them while you’re around us.”

“What happened to ‘your best behavior?’” Lucio asked, giving Junkrat a disapproving glance. Junkrat opened his mouth, but closed it soon after.

“I don’t see why we let them out.” Mei said, crossing her arms. “They’re just big bullies.” 

“Well, it’s the way the vote swung. I don’t like it either.” Winston said. Mei puffed out her cheeks. 

“Why do people hate omnics so much? It’s not  like any of the omnics who fought in the omnic crisis are still fighting.” She said. Roadhog growled

“Why do we hate omnics? It’s thanks to omnics that my home was lost and my country destroyed.” Roadhog said. He coughed, and Winston cringed at the disgusting sound. “If not for omnics, my family would still be alive.” 

“Ha!” Mei exclaimed, moving her hands to her hips. “It was the attack on the Omnium, by  _ humans _ , that caused it to blow up.”

“It was the government that gave the omnics land that was-” Roadhog let out another wheeze. “Rightfully ours.” 

Me I ‘humphed’ and looked away. 

“Tell ‘em Roadie!” Junkrat cheered. Winston glared at him, and he glared back. “You’d feel the same way of you grew up in a desolate wasteland, constantly fighting off slavers and gangs. It’s the damn bots, the world was better before they came along.”

“Perhaps you have been fed opinions from.biases sources for most of your life, you have been unable to form any of your own.”

“Oh I’m formin’ one right now.” Junkrat scowled, sitting up.

“Stay down, Junkrat.” McCree warned. Mei laughed.

“Don’t waste your time, Jess.  _ Criminals  _ like him won’t listen.” 

“Criminals, eh? Well-”

Winston looked helplessly to Lucio, to happened to do the same to Winston. Bastion beeped wildy as the room dissolved into an argument. Lucio’s hand went to his sonic amplifier, giving Winstion a  _ may I?  _ Look. 

Winston nodded, and Lucio held it up to the cealing, and triggered a loud blast of sound that rippled through the room, causing everyone to fall silent and Junkrat to fall out of his chair. 

After a moment of silence, Lucio spoke up. “Is everybody done? We all chill?” He asked, eyebrows raised, scanning the room. He lowered his arm. Winston smiled at him. 

“Thank you. Now it’s the middle of the day, and I’d imagine you’re all hungry. So when they’re done… Talking on the kitchen, we’ll all eat, okay? Maybe that will make us all more…. Agreeable?” He proposed, feeling slightly nervous. He pushed his glasses up. 

“Actually Winston, I think I’m going to go to my room. I’m pretty tired.” Mei said, yawning for emphasis. Winston was about to say ‘go ahead,’ when he remembered that Widowmaker had the spare cot in Tracer’s room. Not to mention the fact they they now had more people to house. The theater was destroyed, so that’s one room gone. 

He sighed. It seemed like he would have to send someone out to get sleeping bags or air mattresses. 

He dropped his head onto the table. 

They needed a change of location. He ran though his thoughts rapidly, but one idea stood out- 

_ Gibraltar.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be longer but I need to take so me headache medicine and bang my head on a granite countertop eight times


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a lion's heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry about the late update i went camping

_ Before the mission had begun, Reinhardt had gotten a text from Lucio.  _

**_[Hey man! Good luck on the mission. I made you a mix of new music, so be ready for it!]_ **

_ Reinhard had laughed and set his phone down. He was fine with Hasselhoff, but if it would make Lucio happy, he’d try the techno music. _

  
  


Reinhardt held fast, gritting his teeth as he held up his shield. Rain was roaring down from the black sky, soaking the streets and everyone on them. Bullets were flying towards him, each one hitting his shield with a loud impact. He cursed slightly as the edges began to fracture. Reinhardt looked  away from the black-clad soldiers to Soldier: 76, who was firing his pulse rifle through the barrier. 

“It won’t last forever!” He yelled over the rain. The old soldier growled, and it echoed through Reinhardt’s helmet where his line of communication was placed. 

“Hold fast, Wilhelm.” He said, quickly reloading. A particularly forceful shot landed parallel to Reinhardt’s eyes. The shattering sound that resulted was alarming. He heard a loud shot, and one of the enemies dropped to the streets, dark blood mixing with the cold rain water on the streets. 

Tracer cheered over the line. “Nice shot, Widow!”

“ _ Merci _ .” 

His eyes darted to the large bomb that their foes were escorting through the streets. The meter that displayed  how much longer his barrier could last. It was depleting quickly. 

Three more shots landed against it, and it flickered into nothing. 

“Barrier down!” He announced. Jack cursed and sprinted into an alleyway. Reinhardt readied his hammer. He now felt the bullets rain down against his thick armor. They wouldn’t penetrate, not yet. 

He charged into the fray, pinning an adversary against the wall. 

It was time to get serious. 

  
  


_ “Stay in Hollywood, Angela. You need to rest, you’ve been halfway across the world.” Reinhardt said, looking sternly at his niece projected on the phone screen. Angela ran her hand through her hair. The underside of her eyes were dark, but she forced a smile onto her face.  _

_ Just like her mother used to.  _

_ “I’m a healer, onkel. If there’s a dangerous mission, I need to be there to help.” She said. _

_ “Well what does Fareeha think?” Reinhardt asked, using the tactic that would always work when Leonie would work herself too hard. From the background of the call, Fareeha’s voice responded, _

_ “She thinks that Angela should rest, and leave the healing to Zenyatta.” _

_ “Zenyatta is a perfectly capable healer, but he lacks the mobility and efficiency that I have.” Angela explained. “I just… Jack is going to be there, so is Lena and Genji. And you, onkel.” She dropped her hands into her lap, and Reinhardt felt his heart lurch painfully.  _

_ “I’ll be fine, Kleiner Engel. And I’ll make sure nobody is harmed.” He promised.  _

_ “You can't guarantee that.” _

_ “I can. I swear on my honor, I shall be their unbreakable shield.” _

_ “But who will be your shield?” She asked. _

_ Reinhardt felt a little chill.  _

_ “Stay in Hollywood, Angela.” _

_ “Bu-” _

_ He cut her off .“Ich liebe dich.”  He smiled. She sighed. _

_ “Ich liebe dich…” _

  
  


Reinhardt swung his hammer, sending an assailant into the wall. There was a loud crunch as his hammer shattered the woman’s skull. Tracer, who was leaning against his back, breathing heavily, winced.

“Sorry about that, Tracer.” He apologized, bringing his shield up once more. Tracer stepped out from behind him, her chronal regulator stabilizing. 

“Don’t worry about it, you really saved my skin!” She said. She looked up at him and smiled sweetly. He felt his heart warm at the sight.“It’s nice to fight with you again, Reinhardt.” She said sweetly.

“You as well, Tracer. Now go get those villains!” He yelled. Tracer giggler and zipped away. Reinhardt lowered his shield and gripped his hammer in his hands. He spun around. He launched a fire strike at two enemy operatives who were approaching. 

“Come out and face me!” He bellowed. 

Ah, it had been too long since he had been in the fray of battle. Though it did make his back ache slightly. 

He heard footsteps behind him, and turned quickly to see someone approaching him quickly, an explosive in their hand. He cursed, glancing back to the larger bomb they were supposed to be guarding. 

Rolling his shoulders back, he charged forward, catching the bomber in his path. 

He kept rocketing forward, until he had smashed them against the wall. He felt no satisfaction as their spine cracked and their body crumpled, some blood spilling from the it corpse onto his armor. 

He did however feel panic as he realized the explosive had been activated. 

  
  


**_[Ya know I just realized that this will be the first time we’ve ever met face-to-face! I’m super exited now.]_ **

**_[Just thought I’d let you know, good luck again!]_ **

 

Reinhardt wheezed as he felt his ribs crack and bruise. He attempted to push himself up, but his armor weighed him down, and the rain caused him to slip back down onto the slick pavement. 

“I need a healer!” He yelled. He thought of Angela briefly. He was glad she had chosen to remain in Hollywood. This mission was dirty, dangerous. He didn’t want her anywhere near anything like this-not after what happened in her childhood. 

He hissed as another wave of pain crashed through his body. He flipped himself over, howling slightly at the sensation of burning in his shoulder. Though the cascading sheets of rain, he saw Zenyatta approach. 

The omnic sent him a glowing orb, that hovered over him. There was sudden mental clarity, and all thoughts of the past fled from his mind. He felt his insides righting themselves. He too Kim suffering breaths of sweet relief, before he stood up, using his hammer as a cane. 

Once he was on his feet, Zenyatta drifted closer to him. Reinhardt noticed the exposed wires at his neck. 

“Thank you, my friend.” He said. Zenyatta nodded. “But, ah, will you be fine fighting in these conditions?” He asked. The omnic chuckled, before quickly launching a few of his orbs at an oncoming adversary. 

“I am not foolish enough to head into the downpour unprotected.” He informed. He pulled at the clear raincoat that he wore on his body. 

Reinhardt blinked. He hadn’t noticed. 

“I don’t think you’re foolish at all, my friend.” Reinhard said. 

“That’s high praise, Reinhardt Wilhelm.” 

He grinned and sent another fire strike at an approaching hostile. 

“Not at all!” He activated his barrier as a projectile was launched at him. 

“There are many foes here.” Zenyatta remarked, floating g behind the barrier.

“This? Child's play!” Reinhard laughed. He started walking towards the bomb, his footsteps heavy and loud. No doubt something had come loose after the explosion. 

He’d have to apologize to Brigitte. 

  
  


_ “I just fixed your armor, don’t do anything crazy.” Brigitte warned, poking Reinhardt’s stomach. He smiled. _

_ “Don’t fret, it’ll be good as new.” He assured. She huffed and shook her head. “Besides, I’m heading to Hollywood soon. You won’t have to deal with this old man for much longer.” He laughed. Her eyes widened, and he stopped suddenly worried. “Is something the matter?”  _

_ “You’re… Not taking me with you?” she asked. She was surprised, and Reinhardt was shocked at how hurt she seemed. He sighed. _

_ “It’s one thing to travel Europe being heroes…” He said gently, placing his hand on her shoulder. “It is another to drag an innocent girl into an illegal militant operation.”  She shook her head.  _

_ “Yeah, but-” _

_ “You can go back home, Brigitte. You’ve been away from your family too long.” He said. “And if you’ll allow it, I’ll visit. We can go out for currywurst!” He said brightly. Brigitte laughed, slightly watery, before pulling Reinhardt into a tight hug. He hesitated for a moment, before dropping his arms and retiring the hug.  _

_ “You better come and visit.” She mumbled.  _

_ “I promise.” He responded nicely, hunching over slightly and pulling her closer.  _

_ Yes, he would miss her.  _

  
  


“They’re pushing back.” 76 growled. We have to get on that thing before they get it to the drop point. Widowmaker nodded in agreement. “We can’t make a push without major casualties.” 76 added. Reinhardt muttered in frustration as he watched the bar signing the carve on his barrier fill up. 

“We have to make a push!” Genji said, running up behind them. 

“We can’t! Tracer lamented. “They’ve regrouped, it’ll be impossible to penetrate them without dying. You’d have to be immortal.” 

Zenyatta hummed. “I have an idea.”

“I’d love to hear it.” 76 grunted. Zenyatta floated out to the front of the group. 

“Stay close to me, and push forward as soon as it happens.” He said, before floating higher onto the air, and outstretching his arms. The orbs from around his neck formed a circle around him. His optics began to glow yellow, and his orbs became bathed in a bright light. Everyone scrambled toward him. Golden arms shimmered to alive around him. He spoke, and his voice resonated through the air, and seemed to fill all space. “ _ Experience tranquility. _ ”

Reinhardt thought it was somewhat creepy, but Zenyatta became to press into the fray, and so he followed. 

He stood in the surrounding aura, and felt energy course through him. It was no longer creepy as he felt a stance sort of power inside. He let out a boisterous war cry and swung his hammer at approaching enemies. 

They could make this. 

  
  


_ “Genji! Tracer! My young friends, it has been too long!” Reinhardt said, grabbing them in his arms, lifting him up and pressing them to his chest. Tracer returned the embrace, but Genji remained stiff as a board. After a moment, he set them both down. “Forgive me Genji, I’ve forgotten you dislike being touched.”  _

_ “It’s fine, Reinhardt. I was just surprised.” _

_ “Oh, well, alright then!” Tracer zipped away. Reinhardt looked closer at him. “Forgive me if I’m being presumptuous, but you seem… Healthier.” He remarked.  _

_ “I am much... healthier.” Genji replied. Reinhardt noticed that in the cyborg’s pause, he looked toward the omnic Zenyatta.  _

_ A lightbulb went off in Reinhardt's head.  _

_ “Ohh, I see.” Reinhardt grinned and winked at Genji.  _

_ “That’s not-” Genji began, but Reinhardt laughed and threw his arm around Genji’s shoulders. _

_ “Don’t fret, there’s so shame in being in love!” Genji slouched inward.  _

_ “I…’” His head moved to the Omnic again. “I suppose.” _

_ Reinhardt rubbed his back. “I’m glad you found happiness. You of all people deserve it.” _

_ “Thank you, Reinhardt.” _

 

_ [Don’t get killed trying to protect a bunch of tin cans. I’ll kill you if you do.] _

_ [I mean it, stay alive.] _

  
  


The push was successful, but it wasn’t quick enough. By the time bodies littered the floor, and some had called down beneath the city, the bomb was being activated. The team froze.

There were three people surrounding the bomb. Widowmaker picked off two of them from where she was positioned. Though before she got the the third, the loud ticking off the bomb began. 

“I can’t diffuse that!” Tracer yelled, her voice rising and breaking. Reinhardt felt his stomach drop. 

“We have to run.” 76 said, his voice cold as ice, devoid of all feeling. 

“What about the civilians? Down below?” Genji asked. Soldier: 76 shook his head. 

“We can’t help them now. Run!” He ordered, turning around and pushing Zenyatta and Tracer forward. 

Reinhardt was frozen in place ad he stated at the bomb. 

_ This armor can still serve it’s purpose. _

He thought. He checked his fuel levels. They were dangerously low, but he had enough. 

“Reinhardt! Get out of there!”

_ “ _ Wilhelm! Get moving right now soldier!”

_ One day it may fall apart, but until that time we will fight. _

He placed one foot behind him. He took a deep breath. 

He closed his eyes for a moment, and he could see little Angela with her parents. He could see Brigitte wiping the sweat off her brow after welding his armor. He saw Leonie as a child putting a bandage on his head after he had gotten in a fight. 

He could see Overwatch, his allies and friends, his  _ family.  _ Torbjörn smiling, Lucio performing at a concert. He could see the future. He could see Genji with his hands grasped tight in Zenyatta’s. Angela in a white wedding dress, standing opposite Fareeha

His eyes snapped open. 

 

_ Justice will be done.  _

 

He charged towards the bomb, the world around him passing in a blur..

He shut his eyes saw his sister bathed in a white light. She smiled at him. She looked just like Angela.

He heard a scream, he felt a heavy impact, then a burning pain. Then he felt nothing.

  
  
  


**_[Hey Reinhardt, I think my mom wants to meet you. She’s a huge fan. You don’t mind, do you?]_ **

_ [Ich liebe dich, onkel. I’ll make currywurst when you get here.] _

_ [Be safe.] _

  
  
  



	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bad news

“You seriously can’t tell me you've never used a phone before.” Lucio said, dumbfounded. Jukrat was sitting across from him on a cushion, causing it to be covered in soot. His legs were crossed, and he was leaning forward, using his prosthetic arm to support himself, staring at Lucio’s phone. 

“I’ve used a payphone before. We didn’t have much access to fancy gadgets like this in Junkertown. We mostly had just… Well junk.” He explained. Lucio laughed, throwing his shoulders back a little, his eyes his scrunching up. Junkrat grinned back at him.

Yeah, he had his doubts about Lucio. He seemed like your typical goody-goody at first. One of them preaching types who would talk big about peace and harmony, but never did anything about it. But when everyone had left for England to save a bunch of omnics, Lucio had been the only remaining Overwatch agent to actually try to talk to Junkrat. 

Which he didn’t really appreciate at first.

  
  


_ “Do you mind if I sit here?” Lucio asked, gesturing to the space next to Junkrat. The space that Roadhog typically occupied. He should still be there, but he had been roped into helping the Monkey into doing some heavy lifting.  _

_ “Yah can do what you want. But I'm not some sad sack who needs company.” Junkrat snapped, crossing his arm over his chest. Lucio closed his eyes, then shrugged nonchalantly. He flopped down onto the ground, and pulled out some sorta tablet. He set it down, and projected turntables appeared. He began fudge around, creating sounds and playing music.  _

_ Junkrat almost asked what he was doing. It sounded interesting, and bold. If it were loud enough, it could shake the room. Though sometimes he played with sounds that were mellow, gentle.  _

_ After a while of no conversation, Junkrat caved. _

_ “What’re you doing, anyway?” he asked.  _

_ Lucio turned to him and smile. _

  
  


Lucio snapped his fingers in front of Junkrat’s face, and Junkrat started. 

“You alright Junkrat? You kinda spaced out there.” Lucio commented. Junkrat shook his head. 

“Oi! Yeah I'm fine.” He looked at the 3D projection hovering above the screen. There were little icons floating above a backdrop of moving green lines. “So it’s just a fancy communicator?” Be asked, tapping a box with a picture of a little camera in it. The 3D images fell back into the screen, and Junkrat saw himself on the screen. “Y’know I’ve never been too fond of cameras. Always flashing on me when I’m tryna bow something up.”

Lucio chuckled, but there was an odd edge to it. Junkrat glanced up to see a small crease on Lucio’s brow. He had the sudden urge to reach out and smooth it away with his thumb. “Here.” Lucio said, taking his phone. He held it up. He scooted closer to Junkrat and held his phone up. “Sit up straight, we’re gonna take a selfie.”

Junkrat  sat up straight. Lucio made a small of confusion, and Junkrat looked down at him. 

He really had to look down. 

Lucio was looking at at him with wide eyes, his eyebrows raised, and mouth open.  _ That’s a good look on him.  _ Junkrat thought, 

a grin spreading over his face. 

“What’cha doin’ all the way down there?” he joked. Lucio blinked, before sputtering. 

“How tall  _ are  _ you?” He asked. Junkrat thought for a moment.l, scratching the back of his neck.

“Taller than you, shorter than Hog. Don’t think I’ve ever been properly measured.”

“Huh. Well, you take this then,” Lucio instructed, holding his phone out to Junkrat. “And you take the photo.” Junkrat took the phone and held it up like Lucio did. The DJ grabbed Junkrat’s elbow, and moved it slightly, so that they both fit nicely in the photo frame. “Smile and push that button.” Lucio said, putting a huge smile on his face. Junkrat smiled at his face on the phone, and pressed the button. 

It was kinda nice to take a picture when he had controlled over it. 

Lucio moved his hand away from Junkrat’s arm, and he lowered the phone and handed it back to Lucio, who was looking at his fingers. His fingers that now had some grime on the tips. 

“Dude, when was the last time you took a bath?” He said, wrinkling his nose. 

“Uh… It’s been a few months.” Junkrat confessed. Lucio sprang back from him slightly. 

“Dude!” He exclaimed. Junkrat laughed wildly, and clutched his stomach. “I’d totally hit you right now if I wouldn’t have to wash my hands afterwards.” 

Junkrat was about to respond, when Winston came into the room loudly. “We have a message from the England force!” He announced. Lucio was on his feet and next to the gorilla in an instant. Junkrat huffed and slouched forward, narrowing his eyes at the group that clustered around the monkey. 

The doctor and her lover were the closest, with Lucio not too far behind. The Bastion omnic was on the outskirts, his hand around Reaper’s arm. Jesse McCree was between Reaper and Winston. 

Roadhog came up behind Junkrat, and Jamison held up his robotic hand and crossed his fingers. He didn’t have to speak to say,  _ fingers crossed the omnic kicked it.  _ Roadhog grunted, then a loud gasp came from the group that caught Junkrat’s attention. 

Blondie’s hands were over her mouth, and her lover’s arms were around her tightly. Lucio’s mouth was open, his eyebrows knitted together. His eyes were blown wide. McCree’s hand turned into a fist and he gripped Reaper’s cloak tightly. Winston dropped his head in his hands. 

“Yeesh, whaddya think happened?” Junkrat asked Roadhog, as blondie ran from the room, pursued by her lover. 

There was a loud thump, and Lucio was slumped over onto the table, his shoulders shaking. 

Yeah, Junkrat didn’t really like that.

The bot thumped its way over to Lucio and put it’s hand on his shoulder, moving it’s head inquisitively. Junkrat bit down on his tongue. The monkey set down his data pad and wiped at his eyes, and nodded once. 

“I should send a response.” He muttered, before picking his pad back up and leaving the room. McCree followed after him, pulling Reaper along. Lucio didn’t move, and the bird that the bot carried around flew down onto the DJ’s shoulder. 

Junkrat wondered if he should try to help him out. He knew what it was like to lose someone close to you. 

But it wasn’t Junkrat’s place. 

He  _ really  _ didn’t like that.

 

* * *

  
  


_ The last living member of my family is dead. Reinhardt is dead. Onkel Reinhardt is dead. _

Angela buried her face in Fareeha’s neck, holding onto her tightly as sobs shook her body. She felt Fareeha’s hands rub her back. Angela sobbed and shook her head. 

“I should have been there…” she choked out. It was hard to breathe. Every breath she took hurt as she felt guilt and remorse in every cell. She held tighter. “He said he would be safe, he said I should stay, warum höre ich ihn? Sollte ich gegangen sind, ich sollte-”

“There was nothing you could have done, Angela. He made a noble sacrifice and saved many innocents.” Fareeha consoled, cutting Angela off in the process. “There would have been no time.” 

Angela’s grip tightened. “I could have tried to use it.” She whispered. “It could have worked.” Fraeeha’s movements halted, and Angela winced, and felt more warm tears run down her face. 

“Angela-”

“No, no, I couldn’t have done it.” She sobbed again. “I couldn’t have. Fareeha I couldn’t!” 

“Angela.” Fareeha said gently, gently moving Angela’s face from her neck and lightly turning her chin up, so they were looking in each other’s eyes. Angela sniffled as she looked into Fareeha’s dark brown irises. 

“You can’t save everyone, my love.” She said. Her voice barley above a whisper. Angela choked, and shook her head. 

“Not everyone.”

 

_ A bright smile and wide outstretched arms. Warmth that could rival the sun and a voice as clear as a trombone.  _

_ “Little Angela! How wonderful to see you!”  _

 

She threw herself back onto Fareeha. “Just him…” She mumbled. A hand ran through her hair, and Fareeha hummed gently. Angela thought of Reinhardt, how he looked out for her once her parents were taken. The words of comfort he offered after their funeral, the words that had stuck with her since. 

“ _ Heroes never die. _ ” She muttered, her voice breaking slightly. Fareeha nodded. 

“Heroes never die.” 

 

* * *

 

 

Reaper never cared for Reinhardt. He was loud and boisterous. A perfect poster boy. 

He was on many posters. 

But Reaper knew that McCree was fond of him. If he wasn’t working himself to the bone training, he was hanging out with his comrades, including Reinhardt. Together they were rowdy, loud, and happy. Reyes would get jealous of how often McCree would fawn over the knight. 

So McCree’s reaction to the news of his death wasn’t much of a surprise. 

He calmly walked into his room, taking Reaper with him, and sat down on his cot, his head in his hands. 

He didn’t cry, he just sat down, staring vacantly at the floor, taking in deep breaths. Reaper stood in the doorway, uncomfortable. He didn’t like seeing Jesse this way. It happened when they lost a blackwatch agent, or any number of civilians. 

Reyes was torn between approaching and offering possibly unwelcome comfort, or staying where he was- neither helping nor hurting. 

Though his choice was made for him when Jesse grumbled, “Get over here damn it.”

So Reaper approached and sat down stiffly on the cot. McCree leant his full weight on him, putting his head on his shoulders. 

“Why’s it always the good ones?” He asked. 

Reaper felt a slight chill, and his cells buzzed slightly.

He didn’t answer. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Sorry  
> 2\. Sorry for the late update  
> 3\. Sorry updates are gonna be slow BC I'm taking a trip to england !  
> 4\. Sorry  
> 5\. *weakly shakes pom poms* this chapter was weak sauce


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The good, the bad, and the... Roadhog.

McCree was warm where he was pressed against Reaper. His body heat went through Reaper’s  lightly armored clothing.

They were laying on McCree’s cot, and the cowboy was curled closely to him, to accommodate for the cot being made for one person. His neck was buried against Reaper’s neck, his hold having been pulled back. Their legs were intertwined, and McCree’s arms were wrapped around him. The metal was quite uncomfortable, but Reaper didn’t mind. He would endure any amount of pain for this intimacy with Jesse.

Had his hands been unbound, he would have buried one in the cowboy’s coarse hair, and used the other to stroke his face gently.

The face that had weathered slightly with age and conflicts. Gabriel could recall when McCree’s face was free of lines, when he was younger. And despite the glowing charm of youth having left him, Reaper found him just as captivating as ever.

The other cot in the room was empty. Lucio had yet to come into his shared room, for which Gabriel was slightly grateful. He had a reputation as a heartless killer to maintain- and Jesse really couldn’t be seen in the arms of a murderer.

So Reaper would savor this moment they had, alone in the darkness. While Jesse was peacefully in slumber, and while he himself was basking in the other’s presence.

He knew that this might be a once in a lifetime chance. Even if he was considering McCree’s offer to join the ragtag group, he doubted that McCree’s teammates would love the idea. He had tracked down and killed many of their former allies, after all.

Not to mention, he didn’t think he could ever work alongside Jack Morrison ever again.

McCree shifter in his sleep, and murmured something gently. Reaper smiled gently under his mask.

Reaper never thought he would be able to be this close.

When Jesse had left Blackwatch, Reaper thought that all hope of having… This had vanished. And Reaper had thought _maybe, maybe,_ when he had been brought back as Reaper, he could woo Jesse without him knowing who was behind the mask.

The small smile slipped from his face as he recalled their first encounter after Switzerland.

  


_Jesse McCree sat at the dimly lit bar, cowboy hat pulled down, shadowing his infamous features. The bar around them was loud and rowdy, imbeciles bellowing and glasses clinking. Reaper was lingering near the exit, standing out and blending in all at once. In establishments like these, people who never removed their masks were commonplace._

_He had tracked McCree to this bar in hopes of… Hell, he didn’t know. To kill him? To sleep with him? He didn’t know, but he figured it had to be the last remaining wish of Gabriel Reyes that he receive closure on this mess of a man._

_Reaper watched as he took a shot of tequila. He never really cared much for whiskey. Reaper approached him, and sat down on the adjacent barstool. McCree glanced at him, then glanced away._

_“Look, I don’t know what business you have with me, but whatever it is, get it over with.” He ordered, not looking at him. “I’ve had enough contracts offered to me today.”_

_Reaper wasn’t an idiot, so he knew Jesse was talking about bounty hunting. He shook his head._

_“I’m not here to offer you a contract.” He said. Jesse turned to him. Reaper could see there was a curiosity in his eyes._

_“You seem familiar.” He remarked._

_“I should.” Reaper responded. “Jesse.”_

_And immediately, McCree was on his feet, his revolver pressed point-blank to his forehead. The noise in the bar ceased._

_“You’re_ **_dead._ ** _” He growled._

_“Oh, you remembered.” Reaper purred in response. McCree bit his teeth together and his eyes flashed with emotion. Shock, anger, disbelief, and something else Reaper couldn’t pin._

_“You killed Commander Morrison. You_ **_blew up_ ** _our headquarters.” Jesse snarled. “And now you’re back?” His finger trembled on the trigger._

_“Don’t cause a scene, Jesse.” Reaper warned. Things were going south quickly._

_“You’re not my commander anymore… Ghost.” He replied angrily. Reaper raised an eyebrow that Jesse couldn't see._

_“They call me Reaper.” He said. And  instantly, Jesse McCree looked destroyed._

_“Reaper… Goddamn it,_ **_Reaper_ ** _? The same Reaper that’s responsible for the terrorist attacks? The one who’s killed my former allies?” He yelled._

_“I’m flattered you kept tabs on me.”_

_“Son of a bitch.” Jesse growled, before pulling the trigger._

_But Reaper predicted his course of action , and quickly shadow-stepped out of the way of the bullet and out into the night._

_He heard the bar descend into chaos from the outside. As he left into the darkness, he couldn’t help but feel slightly regretful._

  


Now he be was here. Truth be told, he couldn’t have hoped for a better turnaround. It wasn’t his plan- but his mission had been Jesse McCree.

The cowboy shifter slightly an muttered, “Her thinkin’ too loud. Quit it.” Before falling back into silence.

Realer couldn’t help but feel he’d reached a major checkpoint.

 

 

* * *

  
  


Lucio sat on the roof, a half-drunk bottle of water next to him. His hair was down, and face buried in his arms, uncomfortably stained with dried tears.

 _This wasn’t how it was supposed to be._ He lamented, despair leaking into every thought. _He was supposed to live. We were supposed to meet. He was supposed to meet my mom._ He took in a sharp breath as he felt tears start to prickle in his eyes again. He sat up and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Damn… Not again.” He mumbled, reaching for his water. He bumped into it, and it tipped over, spilling out onto the roof. He stared at it, watching as it spread out slowly. He blinked once, before shouting and splashing it with his hand. He collapsed into a ball and began to sob, each one racking his body and making him hurt. He had been crying for too long, and he wanted to _stop._

But it was _hard,_ it was so _hard._ Having the only positive father figure he’d ever had in his life get torn away from him before he even got to meet him face-to-face.

His phone made a cheerful chime, and he looked to it, blinking away the blurriness from his eyes. It was a message from Tracer.

He picked up his phone and threw it, closing his eyes as he did so.

“Oof!”

Lucio’s head snapped up, his hand grabbing and pulling out his Sonic Amplifier quick as lighting.

There was an unfamiliar man standing on the roof, silhouetted by the moon. He was armed with a bow. Lucio sprang up and sniffled, and rubbed his face with his free hand.

“Who are you?” He asked. His voice was watery. The man was holding his phone in his hand. He dropped it onto the roof.

“I am looking for Genji.” The man responded. Lucio squinted.

“Yeah, that doesn’t answer my question.” He said. The figure looked slightly uncertain.

“I am… Hanzo Shimada. Genji’s brother.” He replied.

“Genji has a brother?” The man scowled. “Yes. Where is he?”

“I can’t tell you, I don’t know if you’re telling the truth.” Lucio said. Hanzo sighed.

“Jesse McCree knows who I am. As does Winston. Reaper, Widowmaker, Junkrat, and Roadhog as well.” He said. Lucio thought it over for a moment.

_Why does everyone know this guy but me?_

He lowered his Sonic Amplifier. “Genji’s in England. He’ll be back tomorrow.”

Hanzo blinked. “Oh.”

Lucio dropped back down onto the roof and crossed his arms. “Oh.”

There was silence.

Lucio hated silence.

He head Hanzo’s footsteps as the man walked in front of him. He held out Lucio’s phone. Hesitantly, the DJ reached out and took it. “Thanks.” He said. Hanzo nodded, and after a moment Lucio gestured in front of him. “You can sit down if you want.”

“Ah, thank you.” He sat down, and placed his bow next to him. He reached for the container that was hanging from his waist. He picked it up and opened it, then pulled out two small glasses from pouches.  He filled one, then the other. Lucio glanced to his spilled water.

Hanzo offered him one of the glasses, and Lucio smiles lightly as he took it. Expecting water, he threw it back, but choked a little when the taste of strong alcohol came instead.

He coughed. “Dude, you carry alcohol on your belt?” Hanzo raised an eyebrow, amused.

“Sake.” He said.

“Wow.” He coughed. Hanzo looked slightly apologetic.

“My apologies.” He said. Lucio shook his head.

“Man, don’t even worry about it. It’s what I needed right now.” Hanzo smiled slightly. He took both of the cups and filled them up again.

 

_[You’ve never been out drinking? We must go out on the town when I return!]_

 

Lucio frowned, shook his head, and took another drink.

After he had swallowed the alcohol, he gestured to the panel on the roof that lead into the facility. “You can go in, if you want.”

“So can you.” Hanzo pointed out. Lucio laughed quietly.

“You’re right. I just don’t want to.”

“Then we’re in the same situation.” Hanzo remarked. Lucio raises his empty cup, and Hanzo clicked his against it.

“Cheers.”

 

* * *

  


Mei shrugged as she sat at the table, running over her notes. “I never knew him. I heard he was a great man, but we never met.” She explained, making a mark on a diagram.

Across from her, Roadhog was listening with his head propped in one of his hands. Junkrat was sprawled nearby, fast asleep and snoring. Mei looked up. “Why do you care, anyway?” She asked. Roadhog shrugged, and Mei shook her head. “You need a bath.” She commented. She pointed to Junkrat. “ _He_ needs a bath. Give him a bath.”

Roadhog shook his head again.

“What kind of dad doesn’t make sure he son is clean?” She asked, laying down her pencil. Across from her, Roadhog choked, then began to laugh, rasping and unpleasant. “What? What did I do?” Mei said, looking around her for her mistake.

“He’s not my kid.”

Mei’s eyes widened. “Oh, I’m so-”

“I’m his bodyguard.” Mei giggled.

“You must get paid a fortune.” She marveled.

“Maybe three fortunes.” Roadhog said bluntly. Mei blinked. “Though sometimes I wonder if it’s worth it.” He added. Mei laughed, and Bastion wandered in from the kitchen, his bird happily eating some bread crumbs. Mei waved at him, but Roadhog didn’t turn to look. Instead, he leant closer to Mei’s blueprints.

“What’re you working on?” He asked. Mei looked at him curiously for a moment, before shrugging.

“It’s a little ice-robot…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *shakes pom poms*  
> Late update BC I'm in england  
> It's cool here!!! But the accents are intimidating like sir please,,, i'm but a simple cowpoke 
> 
> Anyway reaper is a gay baby
> 
> UGH THIS IS THE THIRD EDIT I HAVE MADE ON THIS A/N -   
> I'm part of an Overwatch RP group on twitter!! It's really fun and everyone's super sweet, so you should join! We still have a bunch of open spots so just drop a Lil comment about it of you're interested ;0


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> here we go

_ She was running down a dark hallway. The walls were cracked and dirty, splashed with crimson blood. She didn’t have anything but the gun in her hand and a matchbox in her pocket. The footsteps behind her were growing louder and louder. Her heartbeat was loud, and growing louder by the second. She picked up her pace, she had to get to the end of the hall, she had to, before- _

_ A huge figure sprang from the darkness, from its silhouette you could see it’s hideous shape. Wriggling tentacles bursting through reptile-like skin, violently thrashing and spraying everything in a purple slime. A head with a beaten-in skull and a horrendous gaping hole of a mouth quickly fell upon her.  _

_ She raised her gun and fired three times directly into it’s mouth.  _

  
  


“Aha! Gotcha!”  Hana exclaimed, taking her hand off of her keyboard to punch the air.  “D.Va- One! Monsters- Zero!”  She grinned as she watched her chat blow up. 

She was playing a new horror game, one that had just come out yesterday. It was supposedly engendered to be the ‘scariest horror game yet.’ Every gamer who had played it so far would agree. But, to Hana, the game couldn’t even come close to making her scream. Must be a side effect of being in the military. She yawned. 

“It’s getting pretty late.’ She remarked into her webcam. There was only so long she could survive off of snack food, and her sisters and parents were long asleep.  _ What time is it anyway?  _ She squinted at her clock. 3:15 AM. She cringed a little. “Yikes, why are you all still awake?”

_ We love u D.Va! _

_ C’mon don’t stop the stream here! _

_ D.Va, did u know that Reinhardt died the other night?  _

She frowned as she read that, and hit pause, a small frown coming over her face. 

“Yeah, I know. ” She glanced behind her, at the poster she had near her bed or the man in question. “He was a great man, who helped so many people. I’m sad to see him go.” She said. And it was the truth. Reinhardt had been kind of a personal hero to her. An inspiration to be courageous and vigilant. 

She shook her head and turned back to her stream. “I really do think it’s a good place to stop for now!  _ Annyeong _ ! I love you!” 

She made a heart shape with her hands, before deactivating the stream. 

She sighed and threw herself back into her chair, causing it to roll backwards a little. She pulled her phone out of the pocket of her shorts and typed in her password- ‘NERF.’ Once unlocked, she opened twitter and instagram and checked to see if her favorite musician had gone off of his mysterious hiatus. 

He had been updating semi-regularly, promising new details about his next album and just posting cute little things about his personal life. He hadn’t posted anything for a long time. 

Hana wasn’t  _ worried,  _ but she was kinda curious as to why his vanished. 

Finding that there was nothing new, she threw her phone over onto her bed, and stood up. She stretched out her arms, and again cast a glance to the poster of Reinhardt by her bed. 

She gave it a small salute before going to brush her teeth. 

Staying up this late to stream was  _ such  _ a bad idea, especially because she had a flight to Hollywood catch at seven.

  
  
__

* * *

 

 

 

When Jesse woke up, he was slightly stunned to see he was pressed flush against Gabriel, practically clinging to the man. Their legs were entangled, and he was holding him close.  

As Jesse sleepily came to this realization, he found that he wasn’t as surprised as we was… Grateful.

Gabriel hadn’t said anything about Reinhardt’s death, or the team’s abject misery over the topic. While McCree had no doubt that the man was thinking it, he also had the courtesy not to say anything. It brought a miniscule smile to Jesse’s lips, as he brought one if his hands up behind Gabe’s head, and pushed it so his forehead was pressed against Gabe’s mask. 

He stayed there for a moment. The cool material felt slightly wrong against him. 

“Thank you.” Jesse muttered. He felt Reaper stiffen ever so slightly in response. He hummed gently, and Gabriel’s hands moved up to the sides of Jesse’s face. Jesse’s smile grew only slightly as he felt his companion’s shockingly soft fingers run across the stubble on his cheek to his hair. 

It was soft and comforting, two things Jesse had never associated with Reaper or Reyes. But it was  _ so  _ very welcome, as the weight of their most recent loss sat oppressively in his chest.

Though to him, the ache wasn’t as painful as he imagined it was to Angela or Lúcio. Speaking of…

Jesse untangled himself from Reaper and sat up, looking over to Lucio’s unoccupied cot. 

“Did he come in?” McCree asked, a feeling of dread settling in his stomach. Gabriel sat up and shook his head. Jesse furrowed his brow, confused. “Then where is he?”

“I don’t know.” Gabe responded. McCree quickly got off of his cot. 

“I’m gonna go lookin’ for him.” He informed. Reaper nodded. 

Jesse moved over to the door. He hesitated for a moment before opening it.

“Well, get up.” He said, looking back to the man who hadn’t stood up. “I’m not leaving you alone, and I don’t wanna drag ya.” 

Gabe growled, and jesse glared at him. After a moment, he stood up and slowly walked over to Jesse. “You’re not very talkative this morning are ya?” 

Reaper shook his head and touched his mask to the back of Jesse’s head. 

The cowboy let out a weak chuckle. “Alright, Ghostie.”  He gently pushed the masked man’s head back, before dropping his hand and taking Reaper’s cuffed ones for a moment. 

_ God, what’s happening to me? I’m actin’ like a damn sap.  _

  
  


They made their way into the common space, and the first thing McCree noticed was that sitting on the ground, with Lucio passed put next to him, was Genji’s brother… Hand soap? It sounded like hand soap. 

“Hanzo Shimada.” Reaper growled.  _ Yeah, Hanzo.  _

“Reaper.” Hanzo replied smoothly. Gabriel stepped closer to them. McCree noticed Winston shift his hand closer to his weapon. 

“Why are  _ you  _ here?” Gabe asked, his tone low. McCree raised his eyebrows, and Hanzo lowered his.

“I would ask you the same question, but I can wager a guess.” He remarked, eyes darting to look at the cuffs that bound Reaper. “IAt my brother’s insistence, I am here to offer my assistance to Overwatch.” 

From behind him, Junkrat giggled. 

“Ya just used the same word twice, mate!” He remarked. Hanzo glared. 

“I did not.” 

“Did too!” McCree pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“Right.” He turned to look at their commander. “Winston?” 

The scientist shrugged. “He’s clear of all of his tracking devices, and seems to have no ulterior motive.” He signed. “And it’s not like we haven’t recruited worse before.”

“I’m right over here ya know!” Junkrat yelled again. Winston leveled him with a look. 

“So I have no problems with it. We’ll wait until the rest of the team… C-comes back.” He said, stuttering over the last part. 

_ Because the whole team ain’t comin’ back.  _

McCree looked back to Lucio. Stone cold asleep on the ground, a blanket tossed over him and a pillow stuck under his head. Bastion and Mei sat behind him, silent beside Bastion’s machinery and silent blips. 

“And is he… Okay?” McCree asked. 

“Apparently, Mister Shimada got him drunk last night. When Lucio passed out, he brought him inside.” Winston informed with a small snort. McCree frowned. He didn’t really peg the kid as a heavy drinker. 

McCree went and sat by Winston. 

“So… Uh, about Reinhardt. What are we gonna do to... Y’know…” 

Winston looked choked up for a second. Before he straightened his glasses and resumed work. 

“The Government is having a large funeral, and a memorial is being built for him in Germany. We of course have the option of attending the funeral, but we’d have to leave behind people to watch over Reaper and the junkers.” 

McCree lowered his eyes. “Ah. I see. Where is the doc and Fareeha anyway?”

“They went out on a walk earlier. They should be ba-”

Winston was interrupted by the sound of the door to the base slamming open. Everyone was immediately on their feet, weapons ready. McCree had his peacekeeper trained on the intruder before they even came in. 

It was Angela and Fareeha, and someone else.

In Fareeha’s arms, there was an unconscious woman with dark skin, long hair and ripped clothing. 

Jesse immediately ran over to them. 

“What happened to her?” He asked, looking at the damage on her clothes. 

They were once white, had had been dirtied black, brown, and red. He felt dread creep down his neck when he saw a large, gaping hole in the material covering the woman’s stomach. 

“Talon.” Pharah replied, pushing past him and into the common space, Mercy follwing.

“We found her in an alleyway, with to Talon thugs beating her. She looked like she once had a weapon, but…” Mercy pulled out a crumpled piece of metal from her jacket pocket. “And her bionic arm has been severely damaged as well.” 

“What did they want from her?” Mei asked, standing up from where she was sitting and making her way over. 

“I don’t know, but it had something to do with information.” Pharah said. 

“So Talon is in Hollywood?” Winston asked, dread dripping from every word. 

“Yes.” Mercy affirmed, before following Fareeha into their room. Presumably to watch over the injured woman. 

“Then we have to leave as soon as possible.”

Jesse tuned to Winston. “Where do you propose we go? Got another secret outpost we don’t know about?”

“Not secret, no. But secluded and unoccupied.”

Jesse thought of all the Overwatch bases that were still…. Overwatch bases and not museums or memorials. He could only think of one.

“Ya don’t mean-”

“Watchpoint Gibraltar, yes.” 

Jesse signed and ran a hand through his hair. He cast a glance over their base, taking into note the war omnic, the giant gorilla, the celebrity, and of course, the three wanted criminals. Mei, Pharah, and Mercy would have no trouble going to Spain, but the rest of them? 

“I don’t imagine we can take the train this time.” He pointed out bleakly, rubbing his temples. Winston shook his head. 

“No, indeed we can’t.”

“Then how are we gonna get there?” Roadhog asked. Winston smiled deviously in their direction. 

“I was hoping you two would be able to help me with that.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so i have literally NO excuse about how late this updated and I am SO SO SO SO S O sorry!   
> Please forgive me for being such an awful author i feel like I've so so so let you guys down and I just! I'm so sorry!!   
> Please forgive me and I hope you keep reading!!  
> But ALSO can I just say???   
> *holds up pom poms* THIS FIC HAS OVER 1,000 KUDOS AND I'M????? I'M JUST SO HAPPY THANK Y'ALL AN D JUST ! THAN K YOU SO MUCH IM SORRY I JUst!  
> *shakes pom poms wildly* THANKS


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> girls, girls, girls

Angela hummed gently as she ran a hairbrush through the matted hair of the woman they had rescued. The filthy uniform they had found her in was neatly folded and on the ground. The high-quality material was damaged and stained beyond all repair, but stitched into the fabric near the collar was the name Vaswani, still legible. 

Angela had been able to address the damage done to Vaswani quickly, as it was not as bad as it had initially looked. No vital organs were harmed at all, and  nothing was harmed beyond repair. Her skin had been ripped severely, and there were bleeding bruises  and cuts littering her body, concentrated around her torso and head. It was nothing half as bad as what Angela had seen on the frontlines, but it was bad enough to require immediate attention. 

Luckily Angela wasn’t the top doctor in the world for nothing. 

She had used her field-healing initially, to patch up the deepest cuts and major damages. After they had been sealed, and it was certain that Vaswani would survive, Angela had set about tending to Vaswani’s wounds by hand. In her opinion, no matter how invaluable new advancements in medical technology are, and how useful, there was something special in the healing power of a human touch. She had used disinfectants, fast-sealing stitches, and her own pain-soothing balm she had developed years ago, for Fareeha and her comrades to use when the weight of their suits bore down to heavily and caused muscle strain. It had received many commendations and accolades from medical professionals and civilians alike. 

Angela loved to use it because not only was it effective, she had made it to smell like vanilla frosting. 

Afterwards she had given Vaswani a sponge bath, and dressed her in one of her spare nightgowns. Blue looked nice on her, and complimented her skin, and she imagined it would compliment her hair, once she had gotten it untangled. Angela may have had her fair share of breakthrough developments in the medical industry, but the beauty and haircare industry had had theirs as well. The bloodied strands were becoming silky and gleaming with health with every stroke of her brush. Angela hummed some more and let her eyes slip shut. 

_ This is what he would have wanted from me.  _ Angela thought, keeping her mind from buzzing with sadness and grief.  _ Onkel always said I had a gift for helping people.  _ She felt a small smice graced her lips.  _ He would be proud. He always was.  _ She looked  out the window, where sunlight was filtering in gently at the sky.  _ And he always will be.  _ She finished brushing the hair, and ran her fingers through the long and luxurious strands. Angela swiftly braided it into a long thick braid, and used one of her white clasps to hold it together. She smiled at her work, and laid Vaswani down on the cot, and pulled a blanket over her still unconscious form. Satisfied with her work, Angela stood up and stretched, feeling her joints pop satisfyingly. She turned to the small table that was in the room, half of it was covered in neatly organized medical instruments, and the other half was clear save for a glass of ice water set there by Fareeha earlier. Angela smiled as she picked up the glass and drank it all in one swallow. She set it down with a satisfied ‘aaah’ and thought about how incredibly lucky she was to have her Fareeha in her life. She pulled out her locket and clicked it open, the blue projector immediately flickering to life, displaying a blue-tinted image of Angela and Fareeha, with their arms around one another silhouetted against a lush waterfall, from their trip to Hawaii. 

Angela giggled as she remembered how the winds had carried Fareeha’s hat away, and she had attempted to use her raptorion suit to retrieve it. However, she wasn’t wearing her suit, and ended up leaping then falling to the ground and tumbling down a hill. 

The image flickered and changed, to her parents smiling with her sandwiched between them, to her parents wedding day, to Onkel Reinhardt, to a group photo of Overwatch. She smiled wider and shut the locket with a click, and slipped it back under her shirt. She looked back to Vaswani on the bed, and sat back down  next to the cot. 

  
  


* * *

 

 

“Ohhh this one is cute too!” Hana gushed, holding up a pink hoodie in the changing room mirror. In her other hand, she was holding up her phone in the other hand, livestreaming her shopping adventures. Behind her in the changing room there was a pile of garments, unsorted and undisplayed. Hana giggled and set the hoodie on a hanger. “Of course it’s cute, I picked it out!” She grinned and looked into the stream of comments, ‘ _ It’ll look so cute on you!’ ‘You should try something black’ ‘ud look better with no clothes lol’ ‘omg i want that hoodie!’ ‘so jelly of ur body d.vaaaa’  _

She grimaced as she pressed the icon of the person who suggested she removed the clothes, and blocked them immediately. “Some people are such creeps, am I right? But thank you everyone else! And black isn’t really my color, but maybe I’ll try something green or orange! And I’m sure you look cute as you are bunnyribbers!” She smiled as her shoutout got hearts to pop up on her screen. She pulled another article from her pile, and held up the dark blue sweater.  “What do you guys think of this-” she was cut short, as she noticed a new viewer joined the stream, the official Instagram of Lucio. She felt her heartbeat speed up a tiny bit, and she was certain she was blushing at  _ least  _ a little bit. This was not how she wanted him to see her for the first time! In a tanktop and jeans? Why couldn’t he have joined after she had bought her stuff!  _ Hey, isn’t this the only activity we’ve seen from him in a while? Should I say something? Or would it be too weird? Do I acknowledge him? Do I not? OMG!  _

She snapped out of her daze, and saw the chat.  _ ‘R u okay D.Va?’ ‘where u go?’ ‘earth to D.Va!’ ‘That frog backpack over there looks pretty cute’  _

Hana nearly dropped her phone when she saw Lucio had made the last comment. She was certain her face was red now. She quickly hung up the sweater and turned to grab the backpack, slightly stumbling over her feet as she did so. She snapped up the frog backpack and held it up. 

“This frog backpack?” She asked.  _ Oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my gosh! _ “She tossed it over her shoulder and turned around, slipping naturally into stream mode for a second. “It is pretty cute huh!” A though came to her, and she felt her face heat up- but she was Hana Song. 

She was gonna do it.  

She reached into her pocket and pulled out her keychain, displaying the tiny Lucio character charm she had on it, hanging along with her keys and her signature bunny logo. 

“It kinda goes with this, doesn’t it?” She asked, winking. The chat was blowing up so bad, it was actually slowing down her borderline space-age phone.  _ Wow.  _ She couldn’t even tell if Lucio had responded, which she found a little disappointing. 

Suddenly there was a pointed knock at the door. 

“Excuse me miss? Your time is almost up…”

“Oh alright! One second!” She turned her camera to the front facing view. “I have to go now! Thanks for checking in! Annyeong! I love you!” She blew a kiss to her viewers, and ended the stream. 

She stood still for a moment, before holding her hands to her mouth and giggling uncontrollably, hopping from one foot to another. She did this for a few moments, before she stopped, and took in a big breath.  _ You’re good. You’re a soldier Hana.  _ She steeled herself, and nodded succinctly once. 

She swung open the door quickly, startling the tall attendant woman who was waiting outside. Hana gestured to the pile of clothes. “I’ll take all of those, and the things on the hanger too. I already put my ‘no’s’ in the bin.” She gave the woman a smile. “Thanks so much!” She walked into the store again, still feeling like she was walking on air. She was so in her own head, she didn’t register bumping into somebody. 

“Oof! Sorry!” Hana swiftly apologised to the woman she had bumped into. The woman had dark hair and glasses, and was rather stout, and cute as a button. The woman laughed, and it was a very cute laugh. Hana smiled at her. 

“It’s okay!” The woman said with a heavy chinese accent. “I bump into a lot of people!” The woman laughed, then stopped slightly abruptly, and Hana noticed her eyes fell onto the backpack she was still wearing. “I bet he’d like that backpack…”  She muttered. 

Hana looked at her backpack. “Who would?” Hana asked. The woman smiled and waved her hand. 

“Oh nobody! Just my friend Luuuu- Lu!” The woman laughed nervously. “Lulu is his name!” Her face fell slightly. “He’s been sad… His dad.. Person died. He really likes frogs.” The woman glanced around the store. “Where’d you find that backpack?” 

Hana felt her heart sink a little bit. 

“I um… I think this was the last one they had.” She admitted, shrugging it off her shoulders. She looked at it, and felt a pang of sadness, before she held it out to the woman. “Here you go.” 

The woman looked at the backpack, then back to Hana. “Oh no! I couldn’t possibly take your backpack!” She protested, waving her hands. Hana offered her a grin. 

“It’s not my backpack yet! Besides, if Lulu loves frogs so much I’m more than happy to make his day a little better!” Hana draped the backpack over the woman’s arm. She looked as if she was about to say something more, when the attendant called her from the counter. 

“I’m coming!” Hana called to the attendant. She turned to the woman again. “Please tell Lulu I hope he feels better! It was nice meeting you!” She offered one last smile, before she turned to go pay for her purchases. 

As she paid, she couldn’t help but feel disappointed she didn’t get to keep the backpack. But she also felt somewhat uplifted. If the backpack could make someone happy, of course it would be used for something better. Hana felt good, even if her total for her purchases came up to an amount she was ashamed to admit. If anyone asked, especially her grandma, she’d fudge the numbers. 

As she left the store, the string of the shopping bags cutting uncomfortably into her arms, she whipped out her phone and checked her Instagram. She blushed and beamed like a fool when she saw the first thing to pop up on her feed. 

It was a picture posted by Lucio, of his keychain, with a tiny D.Va character charm hanging off of it, with the caption of a bunny emoji. 

  
  


* * *

 

 

Everything was hazy. Hazy and stinging. There was a ringing, ringing all around her head, in her ears, in her head. It was dark. She tried to feel around. She didn’t feel much. Days, color, math, logic, things, places, ringing. Shapes, colors, body functions, body parts, ringing. Sounds, music, ringing. She squirmed. Movement. Vision. 

She slowly opened her eyes. Her eyes. Whose eyes? Ringing. Her eyes. Where was she? She didn’t know. Why was she there? She didn’t know. She looked around. The world was blurry. There was a cot, she was on a cot, under a blanket. It was warm, there was a door, the floor was wood. She looked to the other side. There was a woman there, with beautiful blond hair pulled atop her head in a ponytail. Pretty. Who was the woman? She didn’t know. The woman’s jacket was lopsided, it made her cringe a little. She sat up, and the woman reached for her. 

“How are you feeling?” The woman asked, with a gentle smile. Pretty. “I’m Doctor Zeigler, I’m here to help you in any way I can.” 

Doctor Ziegler. She looked gentle and kind. Her jacket was lopsided. 

“How do you feel?” Doctor Ziegler asked again. 

She moved her hand. One of her hands was bionic. “I feel fine.” She said. 

Was that her voice? It was. “I cannot see very well.” She admitted. She looked to the Doctor again, and saw she was writing something down. “Your coat is lopsided.” 

“Alright miss.” Doctor Zeigler said with a smile. The doctor straightened her coat, and she felt at ease. “Would you mind telling me your name?” 

  
  


Ringing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wellllllllllll hiya there folks its me friendly neighborhood ricken bringing you a fic update more than a year late! rejoice! or not.... do people still read this my god im so so so so so so sorry it took me so long to update this!!   
> I don'r even have a good reason i'm SO sorry!!  
> I hope this chapter was worth the... year wait... dear lord...   
> thank you SO MUCH to everyone who has read this and everyone who was still reading it and giving me amazing feedback!!! you all are amazing!!   
> *throws pom poms to the crowd* you are all amazing!!!

**Author's Note:**

> holds up pom poms
> 
> this is garbage


End file.
